The Lord of the Rings: The Two Ring
by lahman
Summary: Sauron, after barely surviving the War of the Ring, finds a fragment of the Ring of Power. After a bumbling attempt at rebuilding it, the Ring escapes. Sauron must draft the help of a hobbit, an oliphaunt, a balrog, and a familiar zombie to get it back.
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

His eyes opened.

At least, whatever was currently allowing him to see opened. He did not have eyes as of yet. Or a body, for that matter. At the moment, he was simply a group of particles floating atop a pile of charred rubble. But his body – dark and menacing – was _forming_. He could feel it.

He thought he had been done for – permanently, this time – when the damnnable halflings had infiltrated his domain and destroyed what was most precious to him. Frankly, he _should_ have been done for. That Ring was bound to his life force; without it, he could not possibly exist.

But, apparently, he _was_ currently existing. No doubt about it. A thought formed in his also-forming head:_ what if it _wasn't_ destroyed? At least, not completely?_

Arms and legs – he was thankful to see only two of each – suddenly sprouted from the current center of his body. They were completely covered in dark – very dark – silver armor, as was the rest of him. His spiked helmet sat upon his head like a crown from the abyss. Smiling to himself, Sauron stretched his spiked fingers and wiggled his spiked feet.

He was back. And he had business to attend to.

Sauron, Dark Lord of Mordor, stood and walked toward the ruins of Mount Doom.


	2. The Forging

_Chapter I_

_The Forging_

Mordor was in shambles. That is to say, more so than it was before. Mordor was _always_ in shambles – that was the way Sauron liked it. But this was too much of a good thing. His destination – the fiery Mount Doom – was now nothing more than piles of stones crisscrossed by narrow streams of blood-red lava. Soot filled the air around him, blocking out the sun. It was utterly quiet, as if all life – what little life that could be sustained in Mordor, at least – had been wiped out.

Sauron sighed. Things had been going _so_ well. He had felt like a god, sitting up there atop his spire, an enormous flaming eye surveying the defeats of his foolish adversaries.

_Ah, how I loved that form_, Sauron thought, referring to the Eye. It might seem that being an enormous, immobile eyeball would have its drawbacks, but Sauron actually preferred it to the simple body he was currently occupying. However, the body would serve him better for his upcoming task: to find the remnants of the Ring of Power and reforge it before the power wanes. Before he loses what little life he has left.

Slinging an incredibly ominous mace/club apparatus over one shoulder (it seemed almost a part of him, as it formed out of nothingness, just as his body did), Sauron quickened his pace.

----------

Dorfo Sackville-Baggins was lucky to be alive. At least, the hobbit _assumed_ he was alive. _If I'm dead, then the afterlife is certainly not all it's cracked up to be._ Besides, his last known whereabouts had been deep in Mordor, and his current surroundings definitely looked like Mordor. More precisely, it looked like he was lying atop a pile of rubble amidst the ruins of Mount Doom. Yes, it looked quite like that.

Everything had been going _so_ well, before. After starting off as the ignored and unwanted tenth member of the Fellowship of the Ring, Dorfo had managed to follow his two fool kinsmen – the ringbearer and the gardener – hundreds of leagues (after they rejected him for the final time) deep into the heart of evil. Without even being _noticed_! _They wouldn't get rid of me that easily_, he had told himself weeks ago, and they hadn't! They hadn't! But then he had followed the hobbits into that cave near the top of the mountain, and the spider…that spider…and all hell had broken loose. He rembered little of it, and none of it was pleasant. After that ordeal, Dorfo must have been knocked out when the destruction of Mordor began. Everything after that was a big dark spot in his memory.

As he was slowly getting up and brushing off his filthy pants and jacket, Dorfo saw something moving in the distance. Something big and armored. And it was moving toward him. Had he been a bit more imposing, Dorfo may have confronted the newcomer. But sadly, a three-foot tall hobbit with thick, curly hair and a portly frame looked anything but imposing. So, ever the coward, or so he claimed to be, Dorfo darted toward a large rock and hid behind it. He had no idea who or what the figure was, but he was smart enough to know the main survival skill when in Mordor: if you see _anything_ moving, do _not_ let it see you.

Dorfo peered over his new favorite rock to get a closer look at the figure, which was now a mere twenty paces away. It was, quite frankly, the most frightening figure Dorfo had ever seen. Tall and armored almost entirely in spiky, dented charcoal armor, the figure was haphazardly swinging a large mace at piles of rubble. It seemed to be searching for something, in a very violent manner.

Then, to Dorfo Sackville-Baggins' horror, the figure looked directly at him.

----------

"You there," Sauron called to the figure hiding behind the rock. "Come here."

The figure continued to hide behind the rock.

Sauron held his hands in front of him – a gesture of goodwill. "Look, I'm not going to hurt you," the dark lord said, resisting the urge that every evil mastermind has to append "_yet_" to the sentence. "I am just looking for something."

Slowly – _very_ slowly – the little figure sidestepped away from the large rock. With every step he rmade, Sauron's jaw dropped an exponential amount.

"A _halfling_!" he shouted. "You were with the two who destroyed my empire!"

The halfling stepped back, shaking his head and waving his hands in front of him. "No! I wasn't with them! I swear!"

"Liar!" Sauron took his mace in both hands and charged at the halfling, red eyes blazing. The halfling dove back behind the rock just as Sauron swung his weapon. The mace lodged itself in the stone.

"I wasn't!" The halfling pleaded as Sauron attempted to extract his mace from the rock. "They – they deserted me! The way they tr-treated me, I hate them just as much as you d-do!"

Sauron considered this. It would be _so_ delightful to tear this halfling limb from limb. However, he was going to need all the help he could get, and since he didn't have any orcs or giant spiders or big pointless swamp monsters with lots of tentacles, he'd have to settle for what he _did_ have. After all, the halfling did have a look of hate mixed with the fear in his eyes when he talked about his supposed comrades.

"All right." Sauron said. He finally managed to pull the mace free. "Come, halfling, we have some searching to do."

"Dorfo," the halfling said as he stood on two very shaky legs.

"What?"

"My name is Dorfo."

"I see. I am called Sauron the Deceiver."

"Oh. I was kind of afraid of that."

----------

For hours, Dorfo and Sauron searched the bleak ruins of Mount Doom, turning over rocks (in Dorfo's case) or destroying everything in sight (Sauron's). During this time, Dorfo was learning something about Sauron that he was sure very few people knew – not that the Lord of Mordor had a nasty temper and was unfair quite often (_everyone_ knew that), but that Sauron whined. A _lot_. Sometimes, Dorfo wished that Sauron would become genuinely angry instead of bursting into one of his rants of complaining.

"Halfling?" Sauron said, knocking Dorfo out of his thoughts.

"Yes?" Dorfo replied as he turned over his thousandth rock and stifled another coughing fit from the nearly-poisoned Mordor air.

"Have you found it yet?"

"No, sir."

Sauron sighed so loudly it was almost comical. "This is going to take a thousand days!"

"Probably, sir," Dorfo said, and then his eyes went wide. Under the rock he had just lifted, he could see a small piece of what looked like gold. "I found it!"

Sauron quickly danced his way over to Dorfo and snatched up the fragment of the Ring of Power. "Yes! _Yes_! The Ring is mine once more! The halflings will pay for what they did to me! They will _all_ pay!"

Dorfo cleared his throat. "Um, sir?"

"Oh. Except you, halfling. Except you. Now come." He closed his fist around the remains of the One Ring and walked toward the ruins of his castle. "We have some forging to do."

----------

Unbeknownst to Sauron and Dorfo, a small creature was watching the two as they made their way to the forge. Watching, and waiting.

----------

The only reason Sauron managed to find his old forge was because of the sign he had hung over the cave entrance: "FORG". Most of the place was, like the rest of Mordor, in shambles. However, there was still lava and there were still rocks in the eerie cave. And Sauron still had his mace. Really, that was all a Dark Lord needed to forge something.

_Time to get to work_, Sauron thought.

The first order of business was to gather the material. That was done easily enough, as Sauron was practically made of metal. He tore a strip off of his arm and sat it by the Ring Fragment. The next order of business was to basically ignore all the remaining orders of business.

And so Sauron forged.

Several minutes (hours? Days? However long it takes to forge something) later, Sauron held his creation up to his Eye. _Eyes, _he thought,_ I have two Eyes – eyes – now. Must remember that. _Dorfo got up from his spot in the corner to admire the creation as well.

"I have done it! The One Ring lives again!" He paused, staring at his creation. "No, not the One Ring. The _Two_ Ring."

The halfling snorted. "What a clever name, sir."

Not noticing the sarcasm, Sauron continued to admire the Two Ring. It wasn't quite as smooth as the One Ring, nor was it as gold. It was, in reality, a wad of rusty metal bent into a small circle with a tiny speck of gold on it.

Sauron thought it was the most beautiful thing ever created.

"Sir?" his pint-sized servant asked, staring at the Two Ring.

"What is it, halfling?"

"Um, why does the Ring have…legs?"

Sauron laughed. "You fool, isn't it obvious? I…somehow…gave it legs so we do not have a repeat of last time. Remember last time, halfling? I certainly do. Last time, if the One Ring had had legs, it could have simply walked back to me when we became separated. You see, halfling, I think ahead. You could learn something from being around me."

The halfling nodded and left it at that.

Sauron sat the Two Ring on the ground next to him. Moments later, the Ring stood up on its two black stick-figure feet. It looked at Sauron. It looked at Dorfo.

It turned and ran.

Sauron panicked. "Two Ring! Two Ring, come back!"

The Ring did not slow. It continued to scamper away until it was completely out of sight, hidden by the rubble and fog. There was no reason to chase it; the little bugger was _fast_.

Sauron turned to Dorfo. The halfling looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but where he currently was. Sauron resisted the other evil mastermind urge to torture and/or kill him immediately. The Lord of Mordor then looked longingly back in the direction of the Two Ring.

He sighed. "Son of a _bitch_."

----------

The unseen watcher was now within twenty paces of the two worried figures standing in the mouth of the cave. He was safely concealed by the harsh landscape. He could feel the presence of the third moving steadily westward. The Ring. It had escaped, but at least it was alive. His precious was alive! And he would _find_ it.

----------

As much as he disliked being Sauron's slave in the ruins of Mordor, Dorfo thought it was better than being dead. It did have its benefits, after all. Dorfo didn't have to worry about getting hurt, since he was with the strongest person in all of Middle-Earth. Well, Sauron _himself_ could certainly hurt Dorfo, but the hobbit tried not to think about that. Plus, Sauron actually treated Dorfo better than his previous fellowship did. Those fools ignored him constantly and refused to let him join in their escapades. Sauron was different. With Sauron, he at least felt _accepted_. He thought he could eventually come to _like_ Sauron. Dorfo tried to forget the fact that he was basically teaming up with the purest source of evil in the entire world. He almost succeeded at forgetting it. Almost.

What made the situation so bad, however, was that Sauron was currently about as angry as an evil lord could be, and Dorfo was the only other person anywhere near him. As a result, Dorfo was treading on very thin ice.

Sauron was pacing back and forth across the rubble and chewing on his fingernails.

"Maybe it will come back," the Dark Lord muttered, apparently to himself. "Yes, maybe. Maybe it will come back and everything will be just fine."

Suddenly, Dorfo heard the sound of small rocks sliding around. He turned toward a fairly large pile of stones just in time to see a slender, gray figure dive out of sight. Sauron apparently did not notice, as he was still pacing and muttering to himself.

Dorfo crept toward the pile of rocks. _This may be insane, but I have to do something noteworthy to keep Sauron over there from skinning me alive. _He reached the rocks and climbed on top of them. Then something very hard struck him in the back. Dorfo toppled over the other side and rolled over on his back just in time to see a figure pounce on him.

"Where is it?" the figure snarled in a familiar voice. "The precious! Where did the precious go?"

"You!" Dorfo exclaimed as he fought for his life. "I…I don't know…where it went! But I can…can help you…find it!"

Gollum released his hold on Dorfo. _No, not Gollum_, Dorfo thought. The horribly burned and eyeless figure on top of him could not possibly be alive.This was _Zombie_ Gollum.

"You will…helps us?" Zombie Gollum asked.

"Yes! Help!" Dorfo replied excitedly between ragged gasps.

Zombie Gollum thought this over for a moment, and then released his hold on Dorfo. He then jumped on the rocks and began dancing around.

"He will helps us, precious! The hobbit will _helps_ us! We will find the precious again! _Gollum! Gollum!_"

----------

The shouting brought Sauron out of his dark thoughts. He walked over to the pile of rocks to see Zombie Gollum dancing around like a fool.

"You!" Sauron exclaimed. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Zombie Gollum stopped dancing, screamed, and hid behind the rocks. In his place, Dorfo appeared.

"Sir, I think I've found a way to get the Two Ring back!"

"Oh?"

"It's Zombie Gollum, sir! I think he can lead us to the Ring!" The halfling was absolutely beaming with pride and relief. He knew he had just saved his own life.

Sauron instantly perked up. Then he put on his nicest expression – a scowl – and walked to the other side of the rubble. Zombie Gollum pressed himself against the rock wall as if it would swallow him.

"It's okay," Sauron said soothingly. "We want to help you find your precious. That is all."

"Precious?" Zombie Gollum asked softly.

"Yes. And then _kill you_." Sauron replied, not realizing he had said that last part aloud.

Zombie Gollum gulped. "Kill us?"

"Kill you…with kindness?" said Sauron, ever the quick thinker.

Zombie Gollum thought this over for a while, and then sprang up and wrapped his arms around Sauron's leg.

"Okays! We will find the precious with our new masters!"

"Excellent!" Sauron beamed, wrapping a spiked arm around each of his new comrades. They stood tall on the dreadful ruins of Mordor. "My friends, this might be the beginning of a horribly ridiculous friendship."

----------

_The Two Ring scampered across the barren wasteland of Mordor._

_It would not be a slave anymore. It would _not_. It had been a slave most of its life, and it was going to stop. It was a slave to Sauron immediately after it was forged the first time. It was a slave to Isildur after the man seemingly destroyed the Ring's old master. It then had several years of absolute bliss, living at the bottom of a river. But then it all came to an end when the Gollum creature captured the Ring, and it became a slave once more. It finally managed to escape, but it once again it became a slave, this time to a halfling called Bilbo Baggins. Finally, it was passed on to Frodo Baggins and eventually sent to its destruction. Or so they thought._

_Now that it was free once more, it would not let those three fools capture it. The Two Ring had already been slave to two of them! For only the second time in its life, the Two Ring was going to _live

_The Two Ring scampered across the barren wasteland of Mordor as fast as its little legs would carry it, once again vowing that it would not be a slave anymore._


	3. Setting Out

_Chapter II_

_Setting Out_

Night had draped itself over the land of Mordor, and Sauron lay restlessly on a smooth slab of rock. He had awoken several minutes ago to strange feelings. The best way he could describe it was that his body was _shifting_. He could feel his innards sliding around, and his…outards?…shifting as well. It was beginning to make him feel a bit queasy. This was a rare occurrence; Sauron the Mighty had not felt queasy since that first time he looked down from atop his spire near Mount Doom.

Still feeling uncomfortable, he decided to get up and splash some water on his face. He yawned and _slid_ over to the small creek (a real rarity, considering they were still in Mordor). _Wait a moment_, Sauron thought halfway to the creek, _I'm _sliding? It didn't take an evil genius to figure out that sliding was just not something a bipedal organism ordinarily did. Still, the queasiness forced the thoughts toward the back of his mind.

Sauron reached the creek, saw his reflection in the surprisingly clear water, and gasped. That is, he would have gasped if a large, flaming eyeball was actually capable of gasping.

"I have transformed!" he exclaimed to no one in particular. "I've bloody transformed back into the Eye!" It took all his willpower to not dance.

"What…what's going on?" the halfling asked, stumbling toward Sauron and rubbing his eyes. Dorfo jumped back when he saw Sauron's elliptical form in the moonlight.

"What's happened, sir? You're all…eye!"

Sauron shrugged – a very complex maneuver for a giant eyeball. "I do not know. But I have a theory. The power of the Two Ring must be growing. It's recently become strong enough to feed me enough energy to transform into the Eye. Yes, that must be it." He blinked, which stirred up enough wind to flutter the halfling's coat. "I wonder…"

Dorfo watched, wide eyed, as Sauron concentrated. The Dark Lord began to feel the queasiness – the _shifting_ – again. Some fifteen seconds later, the feeling was gone, and he was standing on two legs once more.

"Yes!" Sauron shouted. "It works! I can freely transform! My power grows!"

"That's, um, wonderful…sir," Dorfo stammered.

Sauron was too thrilled at his new powers to notice the halfling's lack of enthusiasm. "I _will_ catch the Two Ring, now that my power is returning. And when I do, I will lay waste to all the land!"

"Wonderful," Dorfo muttered as Sauron laughed into the night sky.

----------

The morning brought little light to the dreary atmosphere that was Mordor. Still, Sauron, still in his 'ordinary' human form, demanded that they get an early start.

"Get up, halfling! You too, zombie! We can't let it get away!" Sauron's voice was dangerously close to pleading. And, as usual, whining.

"It's _already_ gotten away," Dorfo snapped, forgetting himself.

Sauron glared at him.

"…_sir_."

Dorfo didn't even bother asking if they would have breakfast first. Sauron apparently did not need to eat, and Zombie Gollum had some way of finding food during the night. Dorfo would have to make do with what little he had left in his tattered and torn pack. This was certainly _not_ the life for a portly hobbit.

Zombie Gollum, meanwhile, was wide awake and, from the looks of it, ready to resume the hunt.

Sauron picked up his weapon and looked at Zombie Gollum. "Lead the way, my hound. We hunt!"

Muttering "we is not a hound, precious," Zombie Gollum trotted westward toward the Black Gates.

----------

Ollie the Oliphaunt had seen better days. He had seen a whole lot of better days, actually, as he was very old for an oliphaunt. He had outlived so many other oliphaunts, especially the fighters. Of course, Ollie himself was no fighter. Oliphaunts did not live to be Ollie's age if they were constantly marching into battles. They were far too easy of a target, with their enormous elephant-like bodies. Nope, none of that for Ollie; he was what one might call a companion. A partner. A _pet_, though he hated the word.

While Ollie was certainly still alive, his current condition left much to be desired. He could barely walk, due to an old injury to his left hind leg, and any walking he did do could get quite painful. As a result, Ollie was currently lying on his side amidst a rockland (what a grassland is known as in Mordor), looking half – or even three-quarters – dead.

The sad thing was that Ollie thought he might die here. He did not want to die. He wanted to get out of Mordor, to see more of the world. Mordor was a terrible place to die, full of rocks and soot and lava. Ollie just couldn't bring himself to get up, though. As much as he wanted to live, he was beginning to give up hope.

----------

"Up ahead! I think I see something!"

Dorfo, along with his two 'comrades', had been walking across unchanging wasteland all day, but now something _had_ changed. The hobbit could faintly see a smooth shape in the distance, protruding from the rocky ground.

"What is it?" Sauron demanded. The Dark Lord was in his Eye form, gliding gracefully along the rocky path. His Eye was now piercing into Dorfo's soul. "Is it the Two Ring?"

"No, sir," Dorfo said, mentally adding _I'd have to have bloody good eyesight to see a tiny hunk of metal a league away! _

Suddenly, Sauron saw some sort of small animal scurrying past them. The Eye lunged forward, leapt into the air, and landed on the creature.

Dorfo tried to appear calm. "I didn't know you ate things, sir."

The Eye seemed to grin as it shoved the dead creature away. "I don't."

Dorfo ignored the inhumanity of his master and turned back to gaze at the shape on the horizon. It was clearer, now. Dorfo was just preparing to announce what he thought it was when Sauron beat him to it.

"Oliphaunt!" he roared, then made a beeline toward the creature, which was apparently lying on its side. Dorfo could see Sauron transforming from Eye to Man as the Dark Lord rocketed toward the oliphaunt. Dorfo and Zombie Gollum hurried after him.

When the two halflings reached the creature, Sauron was prodding it excitedly with his club. Dorfo frowned at the creature. It looked dead to him.

"It looks dead to me," Dorfo said, relaying his thoughts.

"No! Not dead!" Sauron shouted with unrestrained glee, and continued to poke an enormous leg. "Saw its chest expand! Alive!"

This near-incoherency was rather odd, coming from the Lord of Mordor. Coming from the heartless being who, a mere moment ago, viciously killed an animal for no apparent reason other than entertainment. Definitely odd behavior, yes.

"Are you okay, sir?" Dorfo asked, noticing that the oliphaunt was breathing, however irregularly.

Sauron turned his crazed expression to Dorfo. "Okay? Okay! I'm more than okay, you fool halfling! We have found an oliphaunt! The Go – _Demons_ – smile upon us!"

Dorfo didn't particularly like the idea of demons smiling upon him, but he would accept anything that put Sauron in such a good mood.

Sauron turned to his companions. "Come, halfling! Zombie! We must right the beast!"

Dorfo gave Sauron an expressionless look. "You want _us_…to lift _that_?"

"Yes!" Sauron shouted as he reached his hands underneath the oliphaunt. He began to pull. Dorfo sighed and pretended to mimic Sauron's actions. No way could they lift this beast. Zombie Gollum didn't bother; he was busy chasing numerous flies in the vicinity of the dying oliphaunt.

Surprisingly, the oliphaunt slowly began to rise. Sauron pulled harder, Dorfo pretended to pull harder, and the oliphaunt was soon standing on its own four feet. Dorfo wasn't sure, but he thought the animal was _smiling_.

"Yes!" Sauron exclaimed, trotting over to face the massive beast. "_Yes_! My steed stands once more!"

_What in blazes is he talking about?_ Dorfo thought. Then, as if in answer, Sauron transformed into the Eye, floated high into the air, and settled himself atop the oliphaunt's massive head.

"The prophecy will be fulfilled!" The Eye shouted, its fiery gaze staring off to the west. "I will have my revenge! Onward, my steed!"

Dorfo had no idea what kind of prophecy Sauron was referring to, but at least the Dark Lord was in a good mood. The halfling knew full well that Sauron in a good mood equaled a longer lifespan for Dorfo Sackville-Baggins.

Meanwhile, the oliphaunt was very, very slowly moving westward. _The beast acts like it is a thousand years old_, Dorfo thought. It limped heavily, and swayed so much that Sauron could easily slide off. Walking close behind the oliphaunt, Dorfo noticed something for the first time: a large collar with a piece of metal dangling from the bottom which Dorfo could see between the beast's legs. It simply read "OLLIE".

_Its name, apparently. Hmm, must have been a pet. But to who? An orc? Who has pets in _Mordor Dorfo didn't know, but he decided to put it out of his mind.

Ollie and the Eye headed toward the Black Gate, with Dorfo following. Zombie Gollum, usually the leader, was still several yards behind, feasting on flies.

----------

_The Two Ring scampered across the Dead Marshes._

_It could have been _leagues_ ahead, but its pursuers intrigued him. Sauron, a father of sorts, was becoming less of a Dark Lord and more of an insane, whining brat. The hobbit, whom the Two Ring had seen occasionally during his voyage to Mordor with Frodo Baggins, was an unwilling slave to Sauron, but trying like mad to hide his unwillingness. He had certainly changed from the outgoing, never-give-up hobbit from before the destruction of Mordor. The third, Zombie Gollum, was…Gollum. That one would not change no matter how much lava he fell into, the Two Ring realized. _

_Those three all had one thing in common – they were all fools, to put it bluntly. Sauron was the biggest fool by far, as he was the one who gave legs to the Two Ring. _A move he will live to regret_, the Two Ring thought. _

_The Two Ring realized it was acting rather selfish. So what if the Ring was being selfish? It obviously was, but didn't it deserve a little selfishness? After all those years of slavery at the hands of people just like those chasing him? It was time for the Two Ring to look out for number one: itself._

_The Two Ring scampered across the Dead Marshes, confident in its ability to elude the fellowship of fools._


	4. Of Rings and Balrogs: Minas Tirith I

_Chapter III_

_Of Rings and Balrogs – Minas Tirith I_

Amidst the ruins of the city of Osgiliath, Ollie the Oliphaunt sat near the edge of the river. His companions had dismounted to search the area for any sign of the Two Ring – Zombie Gollum had said he felt it somewhere nearby. In actuality, Sauron was the only one searching for the Ring; Dorfo was searching for food and Zombie Gollum looked like he was in his own little world.

It had been a tiring journey for the old oliphaunt. However, it was certainly worth the trouble. He had wanted adventure, and he had gotten it. He had seen the ruins of the Black Gate of Mordor; he had seen a nearly-weeping Sauron chase Dorfo up some of the rubble when the hobbit tried to comfort him. He had seen and crossed the fabled Dead Marshes; he had seen an angry Sauron throw Zombie Gollum several yards after the zombie led the Dark Lord into a deep pool of murky water. He had seen – and still saw – the shining white city of Minas Tirith; he had seen Sauron give it the finger.

For the first time in years, Ollie was happy. It didn't matter that Ollie was not evil and that Sauron – his new master – was most certainly evil. Ollie was enjoying himself, and _that_ was what mattered.

----------

"You said it was here, zombie! You lied to me!" Sauron snapped at Zombie Gollum, who was currently being held in the air by Sauron's spiked arm.

"No…no lies, precious," Zombie Gollum squeaked. "The…precious…_was_ here. It is…_there_…now." The zombie pointed a bony finger westward toward the setting sun.

Fuming, Sauron threw Zombie Gollum aside. "Blast! Halfling, get over here!"

Dorfo was beside Sauron almost immediately. The little creature certainly had learned to obey.

"We are leaving, halfling. We go west. Toward – " Sauron thought for a moment; he knew little of geography outside of Mordor – "toward Roo-han."

Dorfo cleared his throat. "Um, sir? I thought we were going into the city to get some food and rest."

Sauron actually thought about this. The halfling _was_ getting rather thin, Sauron had to admit. As little use a halfling was to him, it was much more use than a dead halfling would be. Even Zombie Gollum, who usually found his own food, was beginning to look bonier than usual.

"All right. As much as I despise that city, we will spend one night there. Only one! Then we resume the hunt." _Anyway_, he added to himself, _it will give me an opportunity to begin my next project. _"Come, halfling. You too, zombie. Steed, you remain here and guard our possessions."

Ollie sighed, a sound which very likely could be heard from Minas Tirith itself.

"Sir?" Dorfo said, eyeing Sauron. "You're going to need some sort of disguise."

Sauron transformed into the Eye. "How about this?"

"Um, that's… good," Dorfo stammered, "but maybe we can do just a little better…"

----------

Halfway up the gleaming city of Minas Tirith, three figures walked in single file. Dorfo Sackville-Baggins led the procession, as he was the most respectable looking of the three. Zombie Gollum followed, now dressed in rusty armor Dorfo had found in the ruins of Osgiliath. While still quite strange, an armored Zombie Gollum attracted much less attention than a loincloth-garbed Zombie Gollum, Dorfo decided. Last in line was a very tall figure wearing a heavy black cloak. Its massive hood almost completely covered his head and face. Except for the metal points protruding from the top of the hood and the heavy mace in his hand, Sauron was practically unrecognizable. His cloak also helped him blend in with the approaching darkness of night.

The strange procession came to a halt in front of a small, wooden building. A sign hung above the door; it read "THE FLAMING STEWARD". Obviously an inn, which was exactly what Dorfo was looking for. Inns meant two things: a nice hot meal and a nice comfortable bed for the night.

Dorfo paused at the entrance and turned toward Sauron. "Sir, I think I should do the talking in there. They really aren't very fond of, you know, Dark Lords of Mordor."

"As you wish." Sauron had a thoughtful expression on his face. He also appeared to be fumbling with bits of metal under his robe. "Just get me some privacy, halfling."

Dorfo stepped inside the inn. The common room was quite large, not to mention full of men, dwarves, and the occasional elf. However full the room was, Dorfo was still quite sure there was only one hobbit, one zombie, and one Dark Lord of Mordor occupying it. Still, few heads turned toward the three strange visitors. Dorfo assumed it had something to do with the fact that the new king proclaimed that all races are welcome in Minas Tirith. _All sorts of strange folk have been showing up ever since that went into effect, I imagine._

The hobbit spotted the innkeeper's counter on the far side of the room and hurried over to it. The innkeeper was a fat, balding man wearing a very dirty apron. He beamed at Dorfo.

"Welcome, master hobbit! What can I do for you?"

"We'd like a room for the night, and a good meal to go with it," Dorfo said, already salivating.

"And fire," Sauron interjected, hastily adding "Fire_place_! A fireplace. For my feet." Sauron, Dorfo realized, was not very good at covering up a lie. "My feet are cold. That is why."

Sauron thankfully stopped talking. Dorfo did not know why his master needed fire, and he really did not care. The innkeeper gave Sauron a quizzical look, but then dismissed the oddity and put on his best smile.

"You are in luck, my friends! Only one room left! It's up on the second floor; third door on the right. Oh, and I'll have those meals up before you know it."

Sauron glared at the innkeeper, who finally added "And it has a fireplace!"

Satisfied, Sauron turned toward the stairs. Zombie Gollum and Dorfo followed, one of them politely thanking the innkeeper. It's not hard to guess which one.

----------

Lying on a spacious bed on the second floor of the Flaming Steward, Spanky the Balrog could not sleep. There were several reasons for this. He was too excited from seeing the interior of Minas Tirith for the first time. That fish he ate for dinner was not agreeing with him at all. There was an awful racket coming from the room next to him.

The main reason Spanky could not sleep, however, was because he kept accidentally setting the bed on fire.

----------

After eating the most fantastic meal he had eaten in - had it been years? – yes, years, Dorfo threw himself onto one of two beds in the small room. After all those months in the wild, he had forgotten how wonderful a genuine mattress felt. He didn't think anything could cause him to get up, even the Dark Lord of Mordor himself storming into the room.

Dorfo chuckled when he remembered Sauron himself was in the room right now. Things had certainly changed. Dorfo was getting so used to traveling with the Dark Lord that he tended to forget that Sauron was actually _Sauron_. He really wasn't that bad when you got to know him. Sure, he complained, and sure, he could be rather cruel. But the Dark Lord treated Dorfo _reasonably_ well – unlike his former "comrades". Dorfo greatly preferred this Fellowship of the Two Ring over the former Fellowship of the One Ring.

Things weren't always great, however. Sauron was in a rather sour mood tonight, Dorfo gathered. The Dark Lord was currently in the far corner of the room, seemingly building something. He had demanded absolute quiet. Sauron himself, though, was making an _awful_ lot of noise at the moment.

----------

After pouring a bucket of water on his flaming bed for what felt like the hundredth time, Spanky glared at the wall his bed was pressed against. His next door neighbors were doing something that was making far too much noise. Every couple of seconds, Spanky would hear a loud clanging sound coming from the other room. Once, Spanky had heard a mattress squeak, then the clanging had stopped and a deep voice had shouted "Quiet! I am trying to concentrate, you fool!" and then after another voice replied "Sorry, sir," the clanging had resumed again.

After another few minutes of this, Spanky had had enough. He marched to his door and into the hall. The clanging was even louder in the hall. Spanky put on his angriest face and knocked on the door where the clanging originated from.

----------

The mattress squeaked. Dorfo sighed.

The clanging stopped and Sauron looked back at the hobbit. "Quiet! I am trying to concentrate, you fool!"

"Sorry, sir," Dorfo muttered, and the clanging had resumed again.

After another few minutes of this, Dorfo had had enough. Of course, there was nothing he could do about it. Dorfo loved – yes, _loved_ – Sauron for appreciating him and giving the hobbit a family of sorts (something the lonely hobbit had been missing so dearly), but he still feared Sauron. Obviously, it was best to not argue with the Dark Lord of Mordor.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Wondering what to do, Dorfo looked over at Sauron, but he appeared to be too engrossed by his work to notice the visitor. Dorfo shrugged, walked to the door, and slowly opened it.

"Excuse me, but I keep hea – " The voice was cut off when Dorfo slammed the door in the speaker's face. The hobbit ran over to Sauron, almost tripping over a sleeping Zombie Gollum.

"Sir? Sir!" Dorfo pleaded. Sauron turned to face the hobbit, his eyes ablaze.

"_What_?"

"There's a…door...opened it…big…_scary_…closed door…ran!"

"That made no sense, halfling," Sauron said, but instead of doing the expected (killing Dorfo), he did the unexpected (standing up and walking over to the door). Dorfo followed in Sauron's shadow.

"Who comes to my room?" Sauron said loudly to the door. He took hold of the knob.

"It's a – " Dorfo began, and Sauron opened the door.

----------

"Balrog!" Sauron finished.

The figure framed by the doorway stood only around eight feet tall, which had to make it a very _young_ balrog. It seemed to stand a bit more erect than most balrogs, but it was still wreathed in flame. And it looked angry.

"I must say," the balrog said (_It can _talk, Sauron thought with wonder), "you Gondorians are rather rude."

Sauron was taken aback. "Gondorians! Do not insult me, balrog. I am no Gondorian."

The balrog examined Sauron. "Yes. Yes, I suppose you are right. I have only been here a day, but you certainly do not look like the other Gondorians I have seen."

There was an awkward silence.

"Why are you here?" Sauron finally asked.

"Oh. Oh!" The balrog seemed to have his train of thought back. "I'm having difficulty sleeping, what with all the…loudness…coming from this room."

Sauron glared back at Dorfo. "Yes, I can relate. My fool comrade here has been making all sorts of racket on his bed. It has been greatly disturbing to my work." Sauron gave the beast a look just as fiery as the balrog's skin, as if daring him to take the complaining further and mention Sauron's work being the real source of the noise.

"Ah, I see," the balrog said. "Well then, try to get him to be a little quieter…if you please."

"I will do that," Sauron said, being as polite as he could. Dorfo had been giving him lessons. To Sauron's surprise, Sauron had been allowing it. Grudgingly. "It was nice meeting you, Master…?"

"Spanky." Spanky said, a little too proudly.

"Master…Spanky." Not really knowing how to end a conversation, Sauron did it rather suddenly. "Farewell." Sauron closed the door.

"Okay," Dorfo said as soon as the door was shut, "this new Gondorian proclamation that _all_ races are welcome has already gotten out of hand. _That_" – he pointed at the door where the balrog had stood – "is what exceptions are for!"

"I am not so sure, halfling," Sauron said thoughtfully. "I rather like balrogs. Surprisingly intelligent. Excellent fighters. And this one can even speak! He would be very useful…"

Dorfo looked at him in horror. "Sir, you can't be considering having him…join us? Can you?"

"That is up to him, halfling," Sauron replied, heading back to his work. "That is up to him."

----------

Spanky returned to his room. Moments later, the clanging resumed. Spanky sighed. There was nothing he could do about it. Yes, he was a balrog, but he was not a fool. He knew a greater power when he saw one. To argue further with that heavily armored man would be suicide. Spanky had no desire to die. At least, not until he got his revenge.

With the assistance of an unwanted next-door lullaby of "clang_-clang, _clang_-clang_", Spanky finally fell asleep.

----------

_He was standing with his father deep in the Mines of Moria. Something was about to happen, Spanky knew. Something big. His father, armed with whip and sword, stared up the endless stairway, near the Bridge of Khazad-dum. The intruders were coming, and they were making quite a racket. The multitudes of goblins were wise enough to not come near the balrog's domain, but the arrogant intruders were obviously not nearly as wise._

_His father, to put it mildly, was not fond of intruders. In fact, any intruders put him into a murderous rage. Spanky never felt the rage his father did – he thought himself much more calm-minded – but he nevertheless respected and loved his father greatly._

_Now that the intruders were almost to the bottom of the stairs (and had just barely escaped an embarrassing incident with a gap in the stairway), Spanky could begin to make out voices. He could not yet speak himself, but he knew he had the talent. Most balrogs – including his father – could not even understand human speech, but Spanky could. He knew he would be able to speak someday._

_"Stay behind me!" a deep voice shouted. He was holding a staff which emitted a very bright glow._

_"But where's Dorfo?" another voice asked from farther behind. "We can't leave him!"_

_"He's gone on ahead, I think," yet another voice replied. "Anyway, forget about him! We need to watch out for ourselves now!"_

_With that, the intruders were at the bottom of the stairs and running for the bridge. It was time, Spanky knew. The figure with the staff was now the last in line. Spanky's father dashed out of the darkness after the intruder. Spanky watched from the shadows._

_After the rest of the intruders had crossed the Bridge, the figure stopped and faced Spanky's father. After a lengthy, yet dramatic speech full of words Spanky did not yet understand, the intruder thrust his staff into the bridge. Spanky tried to scream "NO!" as his father took a step onto the Bridge, but his still-developing vocal chords would not allow him. The Bridge crumbled under Spanky's father's feet, and the old balrog fell. _

_In the confines of the shadows, Spanky roared in fury and sadness. He heard his father's own screams, growing ever more distant as the balrog fell deeper into the pit. Spanky did not even notice his father dragging the intruder into the pit with him; his grief was too raw. In the confines of the shadows, Spanky fell to his knees and cried._

----------

Spanky woke, sweating. He could still hear the clanging sounds from next door. Those sounds were as distant as the stars to him now, though. His bed was on fire again. That was not so distant. Spanky jumped up and away from the flaming bed.

He usually could control his fire. Most of the time, there was not an ounce of fire coming from him, which he was quite proud of. But any time Spanky got upset or excited, the flames came. Sometimes, he could simply not control it.

The sweat turned to steam as it reached especially warm portions of the young balrog. That dream was certainly something that both excited and upset him. He had been having it more and more regularly, as of late. The dream, of course, was a reliving of the most traumatizing moment of his life – the death of his father. The _murder_ of his father.

Spanky wanted to avenge his father's death. That was why he was traveling the world; he had to find those responsible for the murder. However, Spanky only had one name to go by. The odd first name the intruders had mentioned before they had killed Spanky's father. Spanky, at great effort, had even managed to find a last name to match the first name. The name of the one who had helped murder his father.

_I will find you, Dorfo Sackville-Baggins_, Spanky thought with white-hot rage, _and I will kill you_.

----------

_The Two Ring skittered across the Pelennor._

_It was beginning to get a bit worried. That had been a _very_ close call with its former masters. Had it not been for the hobbit convincing Sauron to rest at Minas Tirith, the Two Ring might have been captured once more. Luckily, its chance arose to evade them once more. But again, it was close. Too close._

_The Two Ring had become too confident of its evasion skills. Upon retrospect, stopping for several days to lounge in the ruins of Osgiliath was probably not the best idea the little ring had ever had. Sauron and his fools were practically on top of him before the Two Ring finally had resumed its flight. Foolish, foolish, foolish._

_It would not make the same mistake twice. They will never catch it now._

_The Two Ring skittered across the Pelennor, faster and more urgently than ever before._


	5. Of Flames and Flights: Minas Tirith II

_Chapter IV_

_Of Flames and Flights – Minas Tirith II_

Dorfo awoke the next morning to an interesting sight. Sauron still sat in the corner, his back turned, but Dorfo could see that the Dark Lord was holding a small, gnarled ring in the light and examining it. Not the Two Ring, of course. This ring had no legs, nor did it have a speck of gold on it. It was just as hideous, however. Sauron had apparently not found his forging skills yet.

The interesting thing was that there were _dozens_ of rings. They were scattered on the floor around Sauron, each identical to the one the Dark Lord was holding.

"Sir?" Dorfo asked.

"Excellent, you're awake," Sauron said happily, turning away from the ring. "My work has paid off, halfling." He gestured to take in all the rings. "Aren't they beautiful?"

"Er…sure," Dorfo said.

"Just wait until you see them put into use. Now, come, we have a hunt to resume."

Without bothering to ask more about the rings, Dorfo got out of bed and prepared to leave. He put his gritty jacket on over his gritty shirt, grabbed his walking stick, and walked over to the door. As good as a real bed and meal felt, he was ready to get out to the road again. To adventure. To usefulness.

Sauron, meanwhile, produced a large brown sack and began to gather all the rings into it. The Dark Lord then took half a dozen out of the sack and held them in his right hand. His club occupied the other hand. Once he had donned his cloak and hood, he looked less like the Dark Lord of Mordor and more like an ominous beggar dressed as the Dark Lord of Mordor.

The mismatched pair walked out the door, down the stairs, and into the white streets of Minas Tirith. The thin shape of Zombie Gollum brought up the rear. There were many Gondorians out in the streets, even at this early hour. As usual, they didn't appear to notice the three strangers, but they nevertheless kept their distance. Dorfo found it increasingly strange that nobody seemed to notice that Sauron was _Sauron_. Granted, the Dark Lord was wearing a disguise of sorts – an oversized black cloak with an equally oversized hood covering most of his head – but that just made him look even more frightening. Especially since, fairly recently, certain black cloaked riders had viciously attacked the city.

_There has to be some sort of magic going on_, he thought. _Gondorians cannot be _that_ stupid._ The hobbit decided to ask his master. "Sir, is there a reason _what the devil are you doing_?" He usually did not speak to Sauron in that manner – which was quite obvious, since Dorfo _was_ still alive – but his tongue was working faster than his brain.

Sauron was tossing his newly-forged rings randomly onto the street around him. The mangled black things were scattered all around them. When Dorfo spoke, the Dark Lord paused, one hand halfway into the sack of rings. "I am carrying out my plan, halfling. Now be silent."

Dorfo decided not to press the matter, and resigned to following his master in confusion. Sauron continued to toss the rings. One particularly evil throw struck a small girl in the forehead, causing her to run off in tears. Sauron chuckled. Dorfo sighed. Just when the hobbit would start to forget that Sauron was _Sauron_, something like that would happen. But, as usual, he ignored it. Sauron accepted him and found him helpful, so Sauron was still a Good Person to Dorfo.

The three reached the enormous city gates, which were open halfway. Sauron had finally run out of rings. He tossed the sack aside, chuckling again at committing this small crime of littering. Dorfo imagined Sauron's thoughts being something along the lines of "Take _that_, Minas Tirith."

As usual, the guards ignored them, and the three passed through the gates without incident. After a short hike across the Pelennor to Osgiliath, they would reunite with Ollie and resume their hunt. Dorfo did not really care about the hunt itself, but both Sauron and Zombie Gollum seemed to be holding back a large amount of desire to get to Ollie – and the Ring – as soon as possible.

The three walked across the open field. Suddenly, shouts came from behind them, followed by a deep growl. Dorfo turned around to see the gate guards advancing toward a tall flaming being. It was, without a doubt, Spanky. Dorfo turned to Sauron, who was staring at the scene and apparently deep in thought.

"Bad luck for him, eh, sir? Well, we'd best be going!" As Dorfo turned back toward Osgiliath, Sauron stopped him.

"No. Not just yet."

Dorfo looked at his master in horror. "You don't mean we're going to go…to go _help_ that…that _thing_!"

"I think he would be a useful asset in our hunt for the Ring."

"But!"

"No arguments," Sauron said firmly. "Now come."

Sauron arrived at the gate before Dorfo was even halfway there. Zombie Gollum stayed back in the Fields to wait; Sauron apparently realized that he would not be of any help in this matter.

When Dorfo arrived, Spanky was arguing with three guards, who were still trying to think of a way to restrain the balrog without accidentally setting themselves on fire.

"…not do it on purpose! _She_ bumped into _me_! I tried to avoid her!"

One of the guards looked skeptical. "How do we know you're telling the truth? I've learned to not trust balrogs."

Spanky was getting angry. "When have you ever _met_ a balrog? We don't just swagger around the cities and forests, you filthy liar!"

"We will be the ones who decide who is lying, balrog," another guard said.

"Oh, how very _fair_ of you!"

"A little girl is being treated for severe burns because of you!" the third guard shouted, eager to say something dramatic.

"I told you, it was an _accident_! I can't help it if people charge into me like that!"

"Lying balrog!"

"Fool human!"

Things were going nowhere fast, Dorfo noted.

"Excuse me," a deep, yet calm voice said from Dorfo's right. All attention shifted toward the speaker. "I believe this is all a misunderstanding. Perhaps I can help settle the dispute."

Sauron drew his mace.

Spanky stood back.

Dorfo shut his eyes.

----------

Thirty seconds later, Sauron, Dorfo, and Spanky were sprinting across Pelennor Fields.

"I appreciate…the…help," Spanky said, panting. He was obviously not used to this much running. "But don't you…think it…could've…been handled a little…less violently?"

"No," Sauron replied firmly, leaving no room for further conversation on the topic.

Sauron was rather surprised that the Gondorians were not making much of an effort to chase them. No arrows were fired; no alarms were sounded; nothing. They only real resistance was those three fool guards. Perhaps it was the fact that Sauron did not really give the guards time to raise an alarm.

They quickly reached the ruins of Osgiliath. Spanky stopped and collapsed onto a heap of rubble near the river. Steam rose thickly above him. A few meters away, Dorfo collapsed in a similar manner, minus the steam. They were both panting hard. _Weaklings_, Sauron thought, standing over them.

"So, we meet again, Master Spanky," Sauron said, pulling back his massive hood and offering a hand to the balrog. The halfling's lessons were starting to take hold, it seemed. _I will have to do something about that._

Spanky took the hand and rose. The young balrog stood at a height similar to Sauron's, and looked no less menacing. "Thank you."

_Enough of this banter_, Sauron thought. _It is time to get to the point_. "Master Spanky, would you consider joining us on our journey? We could use someone of your…expertise."

Sauron could practically smell the sudden fear coming from Dorfo. The halfling was not fond of balrogs.

Spanky was silent for a moment; the suddenness of Sauron's offer most likely threw him off guard. That was good. Finally, the balrog spoke.

"That depends on what journey you are on."

Sauron decided he should be as vague as possible in answering the balrog's question. As much as Sauron hated it, Spanky appeared to be inherently good. The balrog would not like to join a mission alongside The Dark Lord of Mordor to capture the Ring of Power.

"We are…looking for something," Sauron said. "It was not in Minas Tirith. Our next destination will be the tower of Orthanc, in Isengard."

Dorfo gave Sauron a confused look. The halfling had known nothing about Sauron's plans to travel to Isengard. Sauron only hoped that the Two Ring was still heading in that direction, or it would put them greatly off course.

"Well," Spanky said slowly, "I suppose we could journey together. For a while. I am headed in that direction as well."

"Excellent!" Sauron said, beaming. "Now, Master Spanky, I'd like to hear about _your_ journey."

"All right," Spanky said. He turned to Dorfo. "Perhaps you may have some information that will help me, after you hear what I have to say."

Sauron listened with unusual attentiveness as Spanky told his tale. Spanky told of living peacefully with his father in the Mines of Moria. He told of his father going out to confront trespassers near the Bridge of Khazad-dum. He told of his father's fall to his death at the hands of the intruders. Sauron glanced at Dorfo several times throughout the story; he could almost swear that the halfling's face was getting paler by the minute.

"I must avenge my father," Spanky said as his story came to an end. "I _must_. It is the right thing to do. However, I only have one name to go by.

"What…what name is that?" Dorfo asked sheepishly.

"Dorfo Sackville-Baggins." Spanky nearly spat the name out.

Dorfo nearly choked.

"What? Do you know him?" Spanky asked, his eyes widening.

"No!" Dorfo said defensively, then tried to stammer his way out of it. "I mean yes! Well, not really. Er. Only…sort of."

"Does he live in this Shire I keep hearing about?"

"N – Yes."

"That's what I thought," Spanky said, then turned to Sauron. "That will be my next destination, but I will travel with you to Isengard."

"Good, good," Sauron said, idly tossing small hunks of rubble into the river. "Let's be going, then."

"Wait," Spanky said abruptly. "I never got your names."

Sauron thought for a moment. It would probably not be a good idea to tell this honorable balrog that he, Sauron, was _Sauron_, Dark Lord of Mordor. And it would certainly not be a good idea for Dorfo to tell the balrog his true name.

Dorfo was one step ahead of him. "My name is…Overhill. Yes. Overhill."

_Hmm, the halfling is good_, Sauron thought. The balrog turned to Sauron, waiting.

What would be a good alias for the Dark Lord of Mordor? Sauron racked his brain. _Sauron…Sauron…Saur-ron…Ron-saur…that's it!_

"I am called Ronald," Sauron said, offering his hand, just as Dorfo taught him. Spanky took it, the fire having no effect on Sauron's armor. "Ronald The Deceiv – er, Ronald _Saruman_."

Dorfo turned to Sauron and mouthed the name "Ronald Saruman" in a "what in the devil were you thinking?" manner. Sauron beamed at him, quite proud of himself.

"Now that that is settled," Sauron said, turning toward the previously-ignored Ollie, "let us resume our hunt."

None of them noticed that Zombie Gollum was no longer with them.

----------

_The Two Ring trotted across the plains of Rohan._

_It was confident that it had regained the large distance between itself and its pursuers. Still, it continued to move with a much more urgent pace. It had to reach its destination without the hunters catching it. It _had_ to._

_There, the Two Ring would make its final stand. It had been planning this since soon after its escape from Sauron. If all went according to plan, the Two Ring would never have to worry about being a slave again. It would finally be free._

_The Two Ring trotted across the plains of Rohan, unaware of the pursuing figure watching it with hunger in his eyes._


	6. Tales of the NeoNazgul

_Chapter V_

_Tales of the Neo-Nazgul_

There are two constants regarding the relationship between people and the strange things people find. The first is that people will pick up things they think are beautiful because they might be worth something. The other, more important, constant is that they will also pick up things that are unusually strange _because they might be worth something._

The latter constant is what caused so many crudely designed rings to fall into the hands of so many crudely brained men and women (and one very unlucky Ent). They were littered across the streets of Minas Tirith, but not for long. By that evening, over half of the misshapen things had been scooped up, in hopes that they were worth something.

Unbeknownst to anyone (save for the Rings' creator, of course), each and every person was the proud new owner of a Ring of Power. The best news of all was that it would only cost them their soul.

----------

As darkness folded in on the campsite, Spanky sat on a rock (the logs by the fire were definitely off-limits to flaming balrogs) and stared at his new companions.

An abnormally tall man clad in metal from head to toe.

A hobbit, not unlike the one he swore to get his revenge on.

An oliphaunt, hobbling around like a…like a hobbling oliphaunt!

_Interesting_, Spanky thought, not able to think of anything appropriate enough without seeming harsh. …_Interesting_.

Not that "interesting" meant "bad". Spanky rather liked the halfling, Overhill. He had a sharp mind, and a good heart. Ollie, the oliphaunt, was much gentler and friendly than Spanky expected. As for Master Robert Saruman, he was an decent fellow once you got past a few things. Things like his temper, his armor, his complaining, his eyes, his…his…his _presence_.

Spanky tossed a pebble into the fire. It disappeared into the dancing flames. The hobbit, Overhill, had quickly gotten over his initial fear and mistrust of Spanky when the balrog had shown just how easy it would be to start a campfire from now on. Overhill had been the previous firestarter, and from what Spanky heard, he was none too talented.

As if Spanky's thoughts summoned him, Overhill walked over and sat next to the balrog. The two stared into the crackling fire for several minutes, until Overhill broke the silence.

"Why are you called Spanky?"

Spanky shrugged. "Everyone has to have a name."

"But…_Spanky_? That's not a name I would imagine belonging to a fierce balrog."

_Fierce? Me?_ "Well, the name does sound more impressive in my native language." Spanky cleared his throat, and then produced a deep, rumbling noise. "That is my name in the balrog tongue. Translated to the common tongue, it becomes Spanky."

Overhill stared at him, the corners of his mouth twitching. "I see." Then he burst out laughing.

After looking quizzically at the hobbit for a moment, Spanky joined him in the laughter.

----------

Later that evening, Sauron finally happened to notice that Zombie Gollum, their guide and backbone of the entire hunt, was no longer with them.

"_Where is the zombie_?" he roared, his eyes glowing red with anger. "_Where IS he_?"

"I…I don't…know, sir!" Dorfo gasped, currently wearing a necklace consisting of Sauron's right hand. "The last…time…I saw him…was when we left…for…Minas…Tirith!"

Sauron released his grip on Dorfo, who fell to his knees. While struggling to breathe, he heard Spanky sigh in disgust over Sauron's actions. The balrog looked dangerously close to taking physical action against Sauron and his tantrums. Dorfo sighed between ragged breaths. _You wouldn't sigh like that if you knew my real name, would you?_

Sauron paced back and forth in front of the campfire, his armored hand rubbing his eyes. Neither Dorfo or Spanky dared to speak. Ollie, as usual, also remained silent. Finally, Sauron faced them

"This is unfortunate. Very bloody unfortunate. But, luckily, we have options."

The Dark Lord produced a ring from the sack by the fire. _One of the hideous rings he was tossing on the streets of Minas Tirith_, Dorfo thought.

"I had hoped to not need these for several more days," Sauron said, admiring the ring he held like a child admiring a shiny new toy.

"Need? What are they for, anyway?" Dorfo asked.

"These rings will summon…beings…to assist us in finding the Two Ring. They will be a valuable asset." He paused, as if remembering something fondly. "Almost as valuable as the Nine."

If Dorfo had been drinking anything, he would have spat it all over Sauron. "The _Nine_? You don't mean…?"

"Yes, halfling," Sauron said, grinning. "The Nine."

The Nine! Ringwraiths! _Nazgul_! Sauron could not possibly be considering unleashing a new set of Nazgul! They would terrorize the land, strike fear into the hearts of men! Not to mention hobbits! But…that was what Sauron wanted. To terrorize. Dorfo realized that, but kept trying to forget that it was true.

Dorfo wanted to shout at Sauron. Call him a fool. Call him mad.

Instead, he said "Erm…"

Sauron now held the Ring in both hands. His eyes began to glow brighter. He was focusing on the Ring.

"Now," he said, "this Ring is linked to all the other Rings. When I activate it, the other Rings will also be activated. Within a day or two, our newly enslaved group of Men – group of _Nazgul_ – will come calling, to do my bidding. To track the Two Ring." He smiled. "We will have no need of the Zombie after all."

Dorfo watched as Sauron fed energy into the Ring. Spanky stared, obviously confused as to what was going on. After all, the balrog knew nothing of Sauron's identity, or his quest. Dorfo cared little about the balrog's confusion, though. He feared for his own life. The Nazgul would soon come. It had begun.

----------

Deschain, a simple craftsman, sat alone in his cluttered shop halfway up Minas Tirith. The sun was setting, which meant he should be getting home to his wife. He usually did; he was a good husband. However, something was currently occupying his time.

The tall, rather portly man held the Ring he found in the streets close to his eyes, giving it a careful examination. What kind of Ring _was_ it? It was so crude looking, yet it was also so…so _intoxicating_.

Curious, he slowly slid the Ring onto his left index finger. It wasn't a perfect fit, but it sufficed. He stared at his hand, and almost laughed. _This is the most hideous thing I have ever…_

-_click_-

Deschain had suddenly lost his train of thought. In fact, he had lost _all_ of his thoughts. He only sat there, staring hungrily at the Ring – which was now glowing faintly – on his chubby finger.

A few moments later, Deschain rose. He had no control over his movements, his voices, or even his thoughts. He was a shell. A tool. More than anything else in the shop, Deschain was a tool.

An _effective_ tool, however, he was not. For Deschain's first action was to walk briskly into the wall next to his shop's door. After shaking the dizziness out of his head, he went to the door and opened it the only way he knew how – by beating on it with a chair. After that didn't work, he exited his shop by bursting through the closed window.

The first of the Neo-Nazgul was on his way.

----------

"It's working," Sauron said, still focusing on the Ring. "I can feel one coming already."

"Wonderful!" Dorfo replied, much more sarcastically than he would have had Sauron been paying attention. "I hope they arrive soon!"

Spanky pulled Dorfo away from the fire and, more importantly, from Sauron. The Dark Lord did not notice.

"Overhill, what is happening?" Spanky asked, genuine confusion showing on his red face. "What is this about Rings?"  
Dorfo shrugged. "Exactly what Sauron said. He's…summoning…friends to help us find what he lost." The hobbit paused. "Although I don't think it will turn out as well as he expects. You saw those Rings. They aren't up to his usual…quality."

Dorfo realized that Spanky would have no idea what the hobbit was talking about. Again, Dorfo didn't care. He liked to think that he and Spanky were friends, but Dorfo's fear of these new Nazgul greatly overshadowed that friendship. He simply did not know what to do.

So, hobbit and balrog sat silently side by side while Sauron unleashed new evils upon the world.

----------

"Wow, it's…um…it's…wonderful!"

"I was hoping you'd like it!"

After the initial stuttered sentence, Corellia was at a loss for words. This Ring was, by far, the most hideous thing anyone had ever given her. But Matrim had such an excited look on his face, like he wanted her to absolutely love it. She obviously did not, but she would pretend. For Matrim's sake.

And, besides, she _did_ feel rather attached to it already.

Putting on her best smile, Cor began to wrap her arms around Matrim and…

-_click_-

…she fell backwards, all thoughts torn from her mind. Matrim ran over to help her up, but Cor pushed him away and stood herself.

Then, in true Neo-Nazgul fashion, Corellia exited the building through the closed window.

----------

Sauron continued to feed power into the Ring. It was working; he could feel it. His new guides – and weapons – would arrive soon.

----------

-_click_-

A portly innkeeper tried to eat his apron, set fire to his inn, and then ran out.

-_click_-

A young girl threw her entire bed across the room and darted for the window.

-_click_-

An ent, making a rare visit to Minas Tirith, set fire to his head to form a large torch, and marched toward the Pelennor.

-_click_-

A rock with a Ring lying on top of it glowed angrily.

-_click_-

And so on.

----------

The Dark Lord's work was almost done. Soon, all he would need to do is wait for his army to arrive. However, every army needs a general. For the final time, Sauron focused his energy toward the Ring he held.

----------

As night draped itself over Minas Tirith, Balinor walked across the empty armory. His shift – guard duty on the wall – had just ended, and he was exhausted. The soldier slowly removed his cumbersome armor, wondering what he had done to deserve such an awful schedule.

All other thoughts were driven from his mind when he felt the Ring in his pocket. He pulled it out, examining the gnarled thing he had heard clattering toward him not very long ago. Despite its looks, the Ring interested Balinor. It radiated power, and what man did not want power?

As Balinor began to slide the Ring onto his finger, a hand slapped his back, hard. The jolt caused the Ring to fly from Balinor's fingers, and into the helmet portion of a suit of Gondorian armor that was propped up in the corner.

Balinor turned to face the room's other occupant. It was another soldier in his unit, Gregor.

"Balinor!" Gregor said cheerfully. "How about we go grab a drink?"

Balinor was having a hard time keeping his mind off of the Ring he just held, but he tried. "All right. Lead the way, Greg."

-_click_-

A scraping noise from behind them caused the two to turn. There was nothing behind them, except for the suit of armor in the corner. Just before they decided to turn again and go get those drinks, two fire-red eyes appeared in the suit's helmet.

"What the devil?" Balinor gasped, staring at the suit, which had begun to very slowly move. It discarded the apparatus that held everything upright. The shiny suit stood there, its separate pieces seemingly hovering in a position that made the suit look like a man was actually wearing it. It was glaring at the two men.

"Out of my way, fools," it said. The fact that it just spoke caused Balinor's jaw to drop farther than it had ever dropped before.

The suit advanced on the two men. Not really knowing what they should do, the men hesitantly drew their swords. The suit sneered.

"Big mistake."

The suit charged, instigating a short fight with an obvious outcome.

----------

That was it. Sauron was finished. Proud of himself, he placed the Ring back in his bag and sat down beside the fire. He looked toward the trees and saw Spanky and Dorfo talking out of earshot. _Probably scheming against me_, Sauron figured. _Let them scheme._ _When my Neo-Nazgul arrive, I will become unstoppable. _

In the meantime, he would travel to Isengard. He had business to attend to.

----------

_The Two Ring dashed across the ruins of Isengard._

_It was fleeing for its life. Several paces behind it, its pursuer scampered, seemingly desperate to catch the Ring. Imagine the Two Ring's surprise when the being had lurched out from behind a rock and lunged at the Ring. The chase had begun, then, nearly two hours ago. But the pursuer was closing the gap._

_After scampering over yet another boulder, the Two Ring glanced behind it. There was nobody there. Had it managed to elude its slimy pursuer? The Two Ring collapsed onto a rock, making a sharp 'clink' sound. After catching its breath, the Two Ring stood on its skinny legs and resumed its flight._

_The Two Ring dashed across the ruins of Isengard until the slimy figure fell upon it, abruptly ending the chase._


	7. The Breaking of the Fellowship

_Chapter VI_

_The Breaking of the Fellowship_

Thirty-seven Neo-Nazgul marched across Pelennor Fields. It was a strange procession. While it could be said that they were _marching_ across the Fields, it was in reality more of an aimless, drunken meandering. Each Nazgul seemed to have a mind, as well as a direction, of its own, but they still managed to somehow stay fairly close together.

This semblance of organization was due to Armor.

Armor, the disembodied suit of Gondorian mail, strode at the head of the Nazgul ranks. A glowing ring of metal encircled his right index finger (if it could be called a finger) – it was the item that gave him his life. And, unlike the other hapless Neo-Nazgul, the Ring gave him intelligence. Power. Ruthlessness.

Obviously, the creator of the Rings did not do such a wonderful job this time around. After ensnaring a living organism, the Ring caused said organism to become a shell: a mindless, soulless shell. The only thing that remained was a vague – _very_ weak – impulse to obey their master.

That master was currently Armor. The suit looked back at his army. It could be said that they looked imposing – they certainly were wearing heavy cloaks with deep hoods. However, these cloaks were a bright blue. As one could imagine, cheerful blue does not tend to strike fear into the hearts of men. Armor's cloak was red. He figured a leader should stand out in a crowd.

And what was an army without weapons? As Armor scanned his soldiers, he could spot nearly every weapon known to man. There were a few swords, several staffs, a few daggers, and an assortment of shields, pikes, and crossbows. One particularly shameful Nazgul sported a tree branch with a nail sticking out of the business end. Armor sighed.

Two of the sword wielders, the man Deschain and the woman Corellia, stood a little behind and at either side of Armor. While still badly corrupted by the power of their Rings, they were nonetheless the most intelligent of the soldiers. Armor had made them his lieutenants. _At least I have these two to be grateful for_, Armor thought with another sigh.

Facing west again, Armor strode purposefully away from the rising sun, leading the Neo-Nazgul to their true master.

----------

Standing on the back of his faithful steed, Ollie, Sauron stretched his tired muscles. He was getting tired of constantly having to assume this wretched human form. He longed to transform into the Eye and ride atop his steed's head – like a god coming to claim what is rightfully his.

But, of course, he could not transform. Sneaking a glare back at his fiery-skinned companion, who was deep in conversation with the halfling, Sauron thought about simply telling the balrog who he really was and being done with it. Perhaps the balrog would continue to follow him. Probably not. Spanky was a balrog of honor, and Sauron realized that the beast would not follow the Dark Lord anywhere. If the balrog found out, then the balrog would have to die. And he was far too useful for that to happen. Yet.

As they came under the shadow of Isengard, Sauron whined silently.

----------

"We are here."

Upon hearing Sauron's proclamation, Dorfo sprang upright. He had been dozing near the rear of Ollie's backside, with Spanky close by. Despite Dorfo's constant fear that the balrog would discover who he really was, the two had formed a friendship during the days and weeks of traveling. They had enjoyable conversations, and Spanky had become a good shield from Sauron's growing eccentricity. Besides, with Zombie Gollum still missing, Spanky was the only person Dorfo had to talk to.

Dorfo looked over and saw Spanky staring forward, past Ollie's enormous head. Before them were the flooded ruins of Isengard. And, in the center of the mess, stood the fabled tower of Orthanc.

Sauron began to dismount. Dorfo and Spanky carefully did the same.

"Steed, you remain here," Sauron commanded after he reached the soft ground. "I have business in the tower." With that, Sauron strode away toward Orthanc, not giving Dorfo or Spanky a second glance.

"So." Dorfo said, gazing around. "I suppose all there is to do is wait."

Spanky appeared to be deep in thought. After a moment, he took a deep breath and looked down at Dorfo. "Overhill, have you ever considered…leaving? Just going off on your own? Away from him?"

Dorfo was surprised to realize that he in fact had _not_ considered this. Not in a very long time, at least. "No, I suppose I haven't."

Spanky's look of absolute confusion suggested that Dorfo elaborate. "I know. I know he's…not good. It's just that…he…he makes me feel useful. _Important_. Around him, I feel like I'm contributing toward a goal. You don't realize how badly I have wanted that."

Spanky did not look all that impressed. "But, Overhill! If you are contributing to anything, it is evil. It must be. That _Ronald_ seems to radiate evil. I can feel it."

Dorfo sighed. "You just don't understand."

"No! I don't understand! So why don't you tell me what I've gotten myself into? Who _is_ Ronald Saruman, really? And for that matter, who are you?"

"I…I can't tell you," Dorfo stammered. "I just can't."

The fire surrounding Spanky seemed to thicken. "It is a poor friendship, Overhill, when friends cannot be honest with each other." He shook his head in sadness and walked off.

Muttering over and over that Spanky would simply not understand, Dorfo walked off in the opposite direction, into the ruins of Isengard.

----------

Standing in the main chamber of Orthanc, Sauron leafed through the large, dusty book. The book had been Sauron's entire reason for making this detour to Isengard. He had to attempt to validate the prophecy he constantly dreamed of. This book could do that, he knew. His old puppet Saruman was in possession of many valuable documents.

"Yes!" Sauron shouted to himself when a turned page revealed a painting of a massive, three eyed oliphaunt. "This is what I have dreamed of!" The third eye rested above the original two, and glowed a deep red. Sauron knew full well what it meant.

Now that he knew his dreams have been actual prophecy, Sauron knew what he had to do next. After he found the Two Ring, of course.

As Sauron replaced the book on its pedestal, he heard voices. They were too far away for him to understand the words, but he could tell that none of them belonged to his companions.

_No matter_, he thought. _If they find me, I will kill them. I may even enjoy it._

----------

Dorfo wandered aimlessly through the boulder-strewn mess. What was he going to do? He would not be able to face Spanky again. Not unless he told the balrog the truth. But if he did that, Dorfo would be dead within minutes.

Maybe Sauron could help somehow. They were a team, after all. It was Sauron's job to protect his partner, and vice-versa. Yes, that was a possibility. Dorfo headed toward the tower, hoping to find his master there.

He froze when he heard the voices. They were coming down the main path from Orthanc. There were five of them in all – all Gondorian men, and all armed with swords and bows.

Hiding would be a good idea, Dorfo figured, had they not noticed him already. The man in the lead stopped and pointed toward him.

"What is a hobbit doing in these parts?" the man inquired.

Dorfo said nothing. He didn't know what to do. He was loyal to Sauron, who was in turn the enemy of almost every free person in Middle-Earth. He should fight them, or run off and tell Sauron. On the other hand, Dorfo did not think he could outrun these men, and hadn't the hobbit _wanted_ to be rescued from Sauron?

He had, but now he did not. Sauron accepted him and his help, and for that reason Dorfo was loyal to the Dark Lord. He would not let these Gondorians take him away like he was some sort of worthless child. He would not. So, Dorfo Sackville-Baggins stood his ground.

The Gondorian raised his voice. "I said, what is a half – "

The man's question was abruptly cut off when a large spiked hand came out of nowhere and wrapped itself tightly around his throat. The other men drew their swords and faced the Lord of Mordor. Sauron ignored them.

"No one, least of all a fool Gondorian, barks demands to my troops." Sauron tightened his grip on the man's neck.

Everyone was perfectly still for several seconds. Dorfo stood, frozen, in sudden respect of his master. The sword-wielding Gondorians stood, frozen, unsure what to do next. The choking Gondorian hung, frozen, from Sauron's spiked hand. Sauron, frozen, glared at him.

Then everything happened at once.

One of the men lunged toward Sauron, sword held high. In what seemed like a single movement, Sauron released his captive, drew his mace, spun, and struck the attacker square in the chest. The man flew backwards onto a pile of rubble as if he were a doll.

Two men came at Sauron next. The Dark Lord was a blur, taking out both men's legs with a single sweep of his mace.

Dorfo watched all of this with conflicting emotions. His master was obviously winning the battle, which _should_ be a good thing. But these Gondorians have done nothing wrong. Sauron was apparently killing them for...for sport. However, the Gondorian did attack Sauron first. Although, Sauron had happened to be holding the man's comrade by the neck at the time. Yet…

Before Dorfo could confuse himself further, someone grabbed him around the waist and slung him, face down and sideways, onto the back of a horse. The man then mounted the horse and shouted to his comrades.

"Ride! We must retreat! Gondor must know what has happened!"

The other men backed away from the blur that was Sauron, darting for their own horses. Sauron laughed and waved his mace menacingly.

"Cowards!"

Hearing Sauron helped Dorfo find his voice. "Sauron! They have me!" he shouted from the lead horse. It was accelerating rapidly. Before Sauron could reply, Dorfo was already too far away. His master had become a tiny speck standing in the shadow of Orthanc. The little hobbit began to panic.

Dorfo was alive, but captured by the enemy.

----------

"What has happened? I heard shouting!" Spanky said, out of breath. He arrived at the main road of Isengard just in time to see faint shapes of men on horseback retreating to the east. _Ronald_ was holstering his mace.

"You missed the entertainment, balrog," the black figure said.

"Entertainment?" Spanky took a moment to examine their surroundings. Three bodies lay on the ground: two almost at Ronald's feet, and another on a pile of rubble at the side of the road. Freshly spilled blood surrounded them all. "You killed these men!"

"That's right!" Ronald said, beaming.

"Wait a moment," Spanky said, remembering his friend, "where is Overhill?"

"Overhill? Who the devil is – oh! Him! Overhill. Yes, Overhill is, shall we say, currently occupied."

"What do you mean by that?"

Ronald nodded toward the spot the riders were last seen retreating. Spanky's eyes went wide.

"He was _captured_? We have to follow them! He must be rescued!"

"Rescued?" Ronald sneered. "No, balrog. The halfling was fool enough to get himself captured. He will receive no help from me. Now, come with me. We must return to my steed and resume the hunt."

"No!" Spanky said angrily. "We hunt for Overhill first."

Ronald gave Spanky a look that would cause even the fiercest warrior to take a step back. Spanky took two. "You dare order _me_? Forget about the fool halfling and do my bidding!"

Fire seemed to suddenly engulf Spanky. The balrog was _angry_. "Overhill is no fool." He began to turn away. "I will find him on my own."

Slowly and methodically, Ronald drew his mace and blocked Spanky's way. "I cannot allow you to abandon me. You are too useful."

The balrog's temper boiled over. His flaming hand shot at Ronald's throat as fast as lightning, driving the dark man against a large stone slab. Ronald hung motionless from Spanky's outstretched arm.

"Listen to me, whoever you are." Spanky's voice was cold and commanding. "I have sat wordlessly and listened as you berated Overhill. As you insulted him. I watched as you flung him into the smoldering fire when he 'allowed the rain to put it out'. The rain! As if he could do anything about the rain! And you don't even care about fires; Overhill builds them for himself. You see, I think you simply enjoy acting like that. You are evil for the sake of being evil. Well, I am through with it. Consider our fellowship over, Ronald. Now, I will ask you one more time. _Get out of my way._"

His face was inches from Ronald's. The flames surrounding the balrog should have been burning the man alive, but Ronald showed no sign of pain.

Suddenly, Ronald struck with a force Spanky could hardly believe. One moment, the furious balrog was holding Ronald in midair, and the next, Spanky was flying backward. The balrog landed in a pile of rubble, a cloud of dust rising around him.

"How dare you!" Ronald shouted at the fallen balrog. "How _dare_ you order the Lord of Mordor!"

"The Lord of…" Spanky muttered, trying to get up. Ronald – no, his name was obviously not Ronald – the dark man planted a spiked foot on Spanky's chest. He peered down at the balrog.

"That's right, fool. You, a supposedly honorable balrog, have been a servant to Sauron, Lord of Mordor." A pause. "_Dark_ Lord of Mordor," he added with a grin.

He should have known. He really should have. It was just so…_obvious_, now that he did know. However, thoughts of his own foolishness were quickly overshadowed by the large black figure standing atop him.

Without responding, Spanky grabbed the foot that was pushing his chest into the dirt. In one quick motion, he twisted and pushed, causing Sauron to spin away almost comically. The dark lord kept his footing, stopping several feet away from Spanky.

Once on his feet, the balrog reached over his back and slowly drew a long, thin, flame-wrought sword. His father's sword. _His _sword, now.

With a feral grin, Sauron discarded his mace and pulled out his own sword. It was not nearly as long as Spanky's, but it was no less menacing.

Wordlessly, the two charged. Steel clashed against flaming steel. The blows came quickly and without mercy, but both combatants stood their ground. Clouds of dust rose around them as they danced amidst the ruins of Isengard. Sauron laughed as he smoothly parried Spanky's fast thrusts; Spanky grunted and roared as he blocked Sauron's heavy blows.

After several minutes of balanced swordplay, Sauron and Spanky stepped back to catch their respective breaths. Sauron, of course, took this time to insult.

"Give up, balrog, or I will stop toying with you."

Spanky said nothing.

"Did you not hear me?" Sauron said. "I said – _what the devil?_"

Several cloaked figures plowed into Sauron, knocking him into the dirt. Moments later, the same fate befell Spanky.

The balrog rolled over and rose to his knees. There were blue-cloaked figures aimlessly scattered across the debris-strewn roadway. Several of them – most likely the ones who knocked him over – were on fire.

A deep voice, similar to Sauron's, rose from the entrance to Isengard. "Get back here, you fools! Obey your master!"

Spanky realized that this is what one might call a lucky break. Sauron had not noticed how exhausted the balrog was becoming during the latter portion of the fight. He had to escape soon. Spanky would not be able to stand up against the Dark Lord for much longer.

So, now that the blue things were occupying all of Sauron's attention, Spanky sheathed his father's sword, stood, and very slowly ran away as fast as he could.

The shouting, red-clad figure paid Spanky no mind as the balrog darted past it and out of Isengard. _I will have my revenge on you as well, Sauron,_ the balrog swore as he looked over his shoulder at the distant confusion. _But first, I will rescue my friend. I will rescue Overhill._

He ran on.

----------

_The Two Ring walked in the shadows of the Mountains of Mist._

_He had changed direction. It was time to make a stand. It was time to fight back. With his newfound power, the Two Ring would make Sauron pay. He grinned at the mere thought of it._

Soon_, he thought. _Soon

_The Two Ring walked in the shadows of the Mountains of Mist, stumbling every few steps as he slowly got accustomed to his wiry new body._


	8. The Choices of Master Dorfo

_Chapter VII_

_The Choices of Master Dorfo_

Armor stared incredulously at Sauron.

"You want me to…_abandon_ the hunt for the Two Ring? Abandon _you_? But...but I only just arrived!"

The Neo-Nazgul's master sighed. "Do not mistake me, Wraith. Under any other circumstances, you would be by my side as I recapture the Two Ring." Sauron's eyes began to glow brighter. "But my former...comrade must be stopped. The balrog could have an army bearing down on my before I catch the Ring. He must be stopped. And you are the only ally I trust enough to accomplish the task." He patted the Nazgul on the shoulder. "Think of it as swapping one hunt for another."

"But, master," Armor said, "I cannot leave the other Neo-Nazgul. They are bound to me. They become…become…something not so desireable. They become strange. Unpredictable. Uncontrollable."

Sauron barked a laugh. "Nonsense! You underestimate me. If anyone can control the Wraiths, it is me, their creator!"

"But…"

"No more, Wraith!" Anger flashed in Sauron's eyes. "No more! You will do my bidding. You will go and capture or kill the balrog. You will also find the halfling and bring him back to me, for I realize now that Sackville-Baggins can bring an army down on me as well, if he talks to his captors." The dark lord shook his head. "I should never have allowed him to be captured."

Armor waited for more, but none came. The two stared silently at each other in the ruins of Isengard, their cloaks whipping in the wind. The other Neo-Nazgul sat nearby, in the direction of the setting sun. Armor already felt sadness that he would be leaving them. He also felt a twinge of…he wasn't sure. Anger, maybe? Yes, that was it. Anger that Sauron was making a terribly wrong decision. But Armor could not go against his master. He could _not_.

"Go, Wraith." Sauron motioned toward the east. Armor hesitated, but Sauron had made up his mind."_Go_. And do not fail me."

Resigned to his fate, Armor turned and strode off toward Gondor.

----------

"Stop!" an exhausted Spanky shouted through the rain. "Please stop!"

Balrogs look absolutely helpless and miserable when stranded in a rainstorm. Spanky was no exception. The young balrog did not have a single spark of flame on his entire body; he looked more like a troll than a balrog. Nevertheless, his resolve to find Overhill was as strong as ever.

He was currently – oh, how he was ashamed to admit this, even to himself – he was currently chasing a small family with the intent of taking their lone horse. _And maybe a bit of food…no!_ Spanky had to draw the line somewhere.

In the span of less than a day, Spanky had gone from battling the most powerful and evil being in all of Middle-Earth (and not getting himself destroyed in the process!) to attempting to steal a horse from an innocent group of travelers. It was sad, really. But rescuing Overhill was more important than honor. He kept telling himself that.

Now only a few paces behind the humans, Spanky shouted above the pounding rain. "I don't want to hurt you! I just…I just need your help!"

"Leave us alone!" a dark-haired man – most likely the father – screamed over his shoulder. The man then began flinging small brown objects at Spanky. The balrog caught one, examined it, and sighed.

"_Please_ stop throwing bread at me!" Spanky shouted back, annoyed. "I only want to talk to you!" _And steal your horse, because I have become no more than a bloody petty thief! But I have to. I have to do it to catch up to my friend._

One of the family members – a small girl – tripped over a wet rock and fell. Spanky caught up to her and offered his hand. The father, obviously horrified, sprinted back to his daughter.

"You get away from her, troll!" he bellowed, shoving the balrog away, his fear for his daughter overcoming his fear of Spanky. With her father's help, the girl scrambled to her feet.

"That is IT!" Spanky shouted at the man, no longer able to control his rage. "I have _had_ it! Why must everyone – _everyone_ – come to the conclusion that I am a monster, an enemy? I am _not_ a monster! I am _not_ an enemy! I am a living creature, just like you, and I intend you no harm or hardship! Now," his voice lowered, "give me your bloody horse or I will tear your arm off and use it as a back scratcher!"

The man simply stared. Rain trickled down his balding head.

"But you just said that you don't inten – "

"Shut up!"

The man shook his head in disgust, sending water in all directions. "Fine! Take the horse! Just leave us alone, you thieving troll!"

Spanky gave the man his coldest smile. "_Thank_ you." As the family began to walk away, Spanky stomped over to the horse he had just stolen. "You had better be worth it, horse."

The horse snorted.

Spanky turned and gave the wretched family one last look.

"And I am not a bloody troll!" he screamed at their retreating backs.

----------

Dorfo's eyes opened and dim light engulfed them. After his eyes adjusted, he saw that he was in a cave. A well-lit cave full of supplies. Upturned barrels rested in stacks against the walls. Tables, many covered with maps and other papers, were strewn about the room. Rusty swords and lances lined the walls. The large cave looked like some sort of war room.

He was sitting in a chair – _tied_ to a chair – in the back of the war room, facing the large mouth of the cave. Try as he might, he could not remember a thing since he was thrown on that horse and carried away. His last real memory was Sauron fighting Dorfo's captors, trying to save his comrade.

_Sauron will find me_, Dorfo promised himself. _He will find me and rescue me._

"So. You awake."

Dorfo could hear footsteps approaching him right after the voice spoke. He looked to his left and nearly choked.

"What? Something with me wrong?" The figure examined Dorfo more closely. "...Dorfo? That you?" His eyes widened! "It you! Dorfo!"

Dorfo knew the man. No, not man. Halfling. Hobbit. Dorfo knew him, all right. He used to listen to the hobbit tell stories back in the Shire, until he disappeared nearly 25 years ago.

"Bordo Baggins! What...what are you doing here?"

"Boggins, Dorfo. It _Boggins_. How many time I must tell you?" Dorfo shrugged. It was _not_ Boggins. Bordo simply refused to admit that he mistook the A in his name for an O. Dorfo let it slip this time, and Bordo continued. "No matter. That not my name now, anyway." He thumped his chest. "I Razorwire Stone, Captain of Gondor."

Dorfo stared at him. "Razor...what? Your name is Bordo, not...that! And...and you're a captain? Of _Gondor_?" This was madness. "What have you been doing all... _Razorwire Stone_? That is a ridiculous name!"

"It _not_!" Bordo snapped. Dorfo noticed for the first time that Bordo's grasp of the spoken language might actually have _worsened_ in those 25 years. "This not proper way to treat rescuer!"

Dorfo glared at him. "Rescuer? Your thugs kidnapped me!"

"Not thugs! Soldiers of Gondor! Trained them in war!"

"Trained them..._war_!" Dorfo sputtered. Bordo had never even raised a fist against another living thing! How could he know war? He was a hobbit, for crying out loud!

"It's true." A man – one of the kidnappers, judging by the fresh scar on his cheek – said, approaching the two hobbits. A sword was strapped to his hip. "Razorwire here taught me everything I know of fighting." Bordo looked at the man, beaming. _This is bloody madness!_

Dorfo looked up at the man. "That's not possible. Bordo nev – "

"_Razorwire_!" Bordo shouted.

Dorfo sighed. "..._Razorwire _never fought a battle in his life!"

"That then," Bordo said. "This now. I fought many battles since leaving Shire."

_That was then. This is now._ A rather good way to describe Dorfo's situation as well, but the hobbit pushed that thought away. "Battles against _what_? Pipe weed? You – "

Shouts from outside the cave interrupted the two glaring hobbits.

"What that?" Bordo said softly, eyeing the cave entrance. "Stay here." Before Dorfo could even blink, Bordo had drawn a short sword from his back. A sword. Dorfo hadn't even noticed he was wearing one. A hobbit wearing a sword. By the time Dorfo did manage to blink, Bordo was rushing toward the mouth of the cave, the scarred Gondorian soldier following closely. Bordo Baggins, rushing off to battle. A hobbit. With a sword. _Madness_!

----------

"Give me the horse."

"No! I'm tired of being terrorized by monsters who want to steal our horses!"

"Not acceptable."

Armor's gauntleted fist connected with the side of the foolish man's head, knocking him cold. While the man's family rushed to his aid, Armor strode over to their last remaining horse, gathered up the reins, and continued eastward.

And _that_ is how to effeciently steal a horse.

----------

Upon tracking Overhill to a large cave near the border of Gondor, Spanky realized he needed a plan. And he came up with one. Really, he did. A good one. Unfortunately, with the unwanted help of that godforsaken horse, the plan had quickly become "charge blindly into the cave with no plan of escape."

That godforsaken, _bloody_ horse. It was as if he was being punished for stealing it in the first place. The trouble began as soon as the family had gotten out of sight and a soaking wet, very angry Spanky tried to get on his new horse. Moments later, he was lying facedown in the mud, the horse looking down at him quizzically.

At that point, Spanky began to miss Sauron's pet oliphaunt immensely.

Spanky eventually did manage to mount the horse, and the rain eventually did stop. They rode nonstop the entire next day, and reached the cave just as the sun was sinking below the western horizon. The ride had been far from fun; balrogs were simply not built for long journeys on horseback. Nor were horses built for long journeys with balrogs (not even unusually small balrogs) on their back, for that matter, which may have explained why the horse was in such a sour mood upon reaching the cave.

"Easy, boy," Spanky said soothingly to the damn horse. They were camped out of sight of the cave, in a small expanse of trees. The rain had finally stopped, to Spanky's great relief, and the sun was almost completely below the horizon. "We have to be quiet while I think of a plan to get Overhill out of that cave."

The horse snorted. Spanky snorted back.

And so Spanky formulated his plan. It was quite devious, he thought; well devised and with a high rate of success.

A few moments later, he was ready. The balrog walked over to his horse, put one clawed foot in the stirrup, and everything suddenly went wrong.

Spanky had had no difficulties riding the horse previously for one simple reason: it had been raining. Now that the rain had stopped, Spanky's skin had caught fire again. The balrog had absolutely no problem with this, but the horse's reaction was far from thrilled when a flaming foot brushed against its side.

It bolted. Toward the cave.

"Stop!" Spanky half-shouted, half-whispered. The horse did not stop, of course. Grunting, Spanky took off after it as quietly as he could. "This is not party of the bloody plan!" he muttered.

Spanky had long legs, but balrogs were not known for speed. The horse, in its confusion, was nearly to the cave. When the first men started coming out of the cave to investigate the noise, Spanky found himself halfway between the forest and the cave, in clear view of the men.

"Stupid, stupid, _stupid_," he murmured, skidding to a halt. The trees were too far away, now, and the men were too close. Their eyes were already widening as they looked in Spanky's direction.

Sighing, he drew his father's sword. The men – there were three of them standing there, now – drew theirs, albeit a bit unsteadily. They were obviously afraid, after facing the Dark Lord of Mordor less than two days ago. Still, there were too many of them. Spanky would have his work cut out for him.

"I'm coming for you, Overhill," he said softly as he broke into a run toward the cave. "That _bloody_ horse!" Leaves rustled beneath his feet. Some caught fire.

----------

Dorfo was still tied to the chair. Try as he might, he could not loosen the knots that bound his wrists to his waist, let alone the ones that held his ankles to the chair.

"Bordo!" he called. Well, "pleaded" was a more appropriate word. "Please come back here and untie me! Bordo!" More men were filing out of the cave, and more shouts were coming from outside. "Bordo? ...Razorwire?"

As if that ridiculous name summoned him, Bordo came trotting into the cave, sword in hand and face wearing a mask of terror. The warrior halfling ran straight to Dorfo and began loosening his bonds.

"Have to leave! Have to hide!" he said breathlessly. The last of the knots came free and Dorfo stood, shrugging the ropes off. "We hold him off. You hide!"

Dorfo hesitated, and Bordo shoved him toward the inner tunnel of the cave. "Now!" Without another word, the general took off toward the cave's mouth.

Dorfo began to slink back into the shadows. It was habit, after all. That was how he had managed to survive the journey to Mordor – pure, unabashed cowardice. Granted, he had gained a good amount of courage during his adventures with Sauron, but the old Dorfo still managed to break out occasionally.

Suddenly, Dorfo froze. Coming into view at the cave's opening was a tall figure, seemingly on fire from head to toe. He held a sword that was longer than he was, and danced between attacks much more quickly than Dorfo would have believed possible. All the while, he was shouting some nonsense at the guards about a "bloody horse".

Dorfo took a couple of steps toward the fighting. "Spanky! Spanky, I'm back here!"

The balrog apparently did not hear him. He ducked a chest-high slice from one of the Gondorians, pivoted, and kicked the man in the stomach. "Stupid, worthless horse!" Another man came at him from behind, but Spanky's fist came around and caught the man's chin. "I should never have taken it!" Two more men got too close to Spanky, and ran screaming when their clothing caught fire. "_Bloody horse!_"

That left five more men. They stayed back a few steps, none of them willing to make the first move. Spanky stared at them, snarling. "Where is Overhill?" They looked at each other, confused. "_Where is he?_"

Bordo rocketed out of the cave and slammed into Spanky, his sword a flurry of movement. Spanky, caught off guard, was pushed backward. His sword, over twice as long as Bordo himself, barely managed to parry the little hobbit's swipes and thrusts. "He not yours, demon. Leave or die!"

For the first time, Dorfo really believed that Bordo was a soldier. The hobbit was fighting – one on one – with a balrog. And he was _winning_. Granted, Spanky was tired, and no doubt shocked to have found another hobbit, but still... No wonder all these Gondorians follow him. Sauron was lucky Bordo was not present at Isengard.

Spanky danced back a few more steps, then pressed his own attack on the hobbit. Bordo parried the balrog's attacks, but Dorfo could tell he was already beginning to tire. No hobbit, regardless of skill, could withstand a balrog's attacks for long.

"Where is Overhill?" Spanky asked in mid-thrust.

"There no Overhill." Bordo grunted, his own sword a blur. "But you not take Dorfo! Not take friend!"

Spanky hesitated. "Dorfo? Dorfo Sackville-Baggins?" The balrog's next swipe knocked the sword from an exhausted Bordo's hand. Spanky's smoldering hand shot out and grabbed Bordo's throat. "_Where_?"

Dorfo took a very quiet, very cautious step backward.

Bordo said nothing, and Spanky released his grip. While the hobbit massaged his very warm neck, Spanky turned and strode into the cave.

_This is not good_, Dorfo thought. As Overhill, he was good friends with Spanky. Comrades. Partners. But as Dorfo Sackville-Baggins, they were enemies. Spanky blamed Dorfo for the death of his father, and the balrog's main goal in life was to kill the one responsible.

Spanky saw him before he could slink into the shadows. The balrog sheathed his sword and ran toward him. Dorfo tensed.

"Overhill! You are alive!" he roared, his face all smile. Dorfo let out a very large breath.

"Dorfo! Run!" Bordo was limping toward them, sword in hand and a grimace on his face. "Run!"

Spanky looked at Bordo. He looked at Dorfo. "Overhill?" His expression darkened. "Dorfo?"

Dorfo took a step back. "Spanky, I can explain. It was all an accident! An acci - "

"_You killed my father!_" Spanky roared, flames leaping about him. "You pretended to be my friend! All this time! You...you _murderer_!"

Spanky advanced on Dorfo, anger feeding his flames. Dorfo swallowed. He needed some sort of distraction.

He got one.

----------

"Bloody horse!"

Grunting, Armor dismounted and drew his sword. The cave was just ahead. He would deal with the traitors quickly, and then return to Sauron's side and help recapture the Two Ring. Yes. This foolishness would end quickly.

Red cloak flapping in the wind, the Neo-Nazgul strode confidently toward the mouth of the cave.

----------

Spanky was livid. He had been searching for Sackville-Baggins for months, and finally – _finally_ – he had found him. The fact that Spanky had been friends with the hobbit during the last leg of his journey did nothing to suppress his rage. In fact, it only made him angrier. Spanky had trusted him. Trusted! No matter. He would finally have revenge on the group who killed his father. He – and his father – could finally rest in peace.

While Spanky held the tip of his sword at Dorfo's throat, the cornered hobbit's wide-eyed gaze suddenly shifted behind and to the left of Spanky.

"Spanky! Look out!"

Spanky did not turn. _I thought you were smarter than that, Dorfo. _

"I am not a fool, _Dorfo,_" Spanky said. His sword crept closer to Dorfo's throat. His hand trembled. Could he do it? Could he kill this halfling in cold blood? _I have to! My father is dead because of him!_

Dorfo, backed as tightly against the cave's inner wall as possible, kept his bulging eyeballs locked to the left and behind Spanky. _What the _devil_ is he looking at?_ The balrog couldn't help it; his curiosity got the best of him. Still pointing the sword at Dorfo's throat, he turned and...

----------

...Dorfo watched as an armored hand backhanded Spanky in the face, sending him staggering sideways. Ignoring Dorfo, the dark figure raised his sword and lunged at the still reeling balrog.

_I have to help him!_ Dorfo thought. The thought nearly caused him to burst out in laughter. _He tried to kill me and I have to help him! _Dorfo unglued himself from the cave wall and leapt at the armored figure's backside.

_I'm bloody insane!_

Dorfo latched on to the figure's back and went for his throat. That is, he went for where the throat should have been. Too late, he realized that the figure did not _have_ a throat. The head was not even connected to the body! The hobbit's hands flailed through the air between chest and head. He grabbed on to the Neo-Nazgul's – he was sure that was what it was – shoulders and held on for dear life. But why was it attacking them? Sauron, Dorfo, and Spanky were _allies_! They were on the same bloody side!

As Spanky reeled, Dorfo held on for dear life while the Neo-Nazgul tried to shake him off his back. Sauron's creation clawed at Dorfo, but the hobbit was positioned in a way that kept him out of reach of any harm. And that was the position he planned to remain in. Besides, he had to keep the Neo-Nazgul occupied while Spanky recovered himself. _So he can kill this thing. And then kill me._ Despite the gloomy situation, Dorfo thought he could reason with his friend. He had a better chance of reasoning with Spanky than with the Neo-Nazgul, at least.

Dorfo was about to lose his grip when Bordo entered the battle. The grizzled hobbit crashed into the Neo-Nazgul's legs, his sword point driving into its left thigh. The Neo-Nazgul staggered back, and Dorfo took this opportunity to release his grip and fall to the cave floor. He crawled back to where Bordo and Spanky knelt.

"Dorfo? You okay?" Bordo said quickly, eyeing the hobbit.

"I'm fine, Bor – Razorwire." Bordo had earned the right to be called that.

Bordo smiled, but the smile faded quickly when he looked over at the other side of the cave. The Neo-Nazgul was slowly rising, sword once again in hand.

"Dorfo."

The hobbit jumped at the sound of Spanky's voice. The balrog was standing, his sword aimed at the Neo-Nazgul. His voice was emotionless as he spoke. "Get out, Dorfo. You and Bordo or Razorwire or whatever his name is. This is my fight."

Dorfo hesitated. "So that's it? You're not going to kill me?"

"I did not say that, Dorfo." Spanky still looked angry enough to run him through where he stood. "But I will not let anyone else kill you. If you die, it will be at my hand. To avenge my father. That is the only reason." The balrog glanced at the Neo-Nazgul, who was inching toward Spanky. "Go now. Go!"

Dorfo really had no choice. He knew he was a coward. Embracing it, he picked up his pack and darted for the cave entrance. Bordo was not far behind. The hobbits would return to Sauron. He would help them talk sense into Spanky, or deal with the Neo-Nazgul. If Spanky does not survive, that is.

"I hope he survives," Dorfo muttered as he ran away from the sound of clashing swords. "I hope he does."

----------

_The Two Ring stood atop the grassy hill._

_It was time. No more running. He had been pursued for too long. Well, no more. He would make his stand here, and he would _crush_ his pursuers. And then he would be free. Forever free._

_The Two Ring stood atop the grassy hill, watching Sauron and his small army approach._


	9. Two Ring Tussle

_Chapter VIII_

_Two Ring Tussle_

Sauron was thinking. Soon – very soon – he would crest the gently sloping hill and the time for rational thoughts would be at an end. But now, leading the remaining Neo-Nazgul toward his ultimate goal, Sauron thought.

His thoughts went something like this:

_I am so bloody tired! I shouldn't get tired, but I am. I am the Dark Lord of Mordor; we don't _get _tired! But I bloody well am now! _

_I'm hungry too! _

_And...and hot! _

_And what is this liquid forming on my body? _

_What is _happening_ to me_?

These thoughts caused Sauron to focus on his goal all the more. Somehow he knew – he just _knew –_ that once he found the Two Ring, everything would sort itself out. Everything would be okay when he found the Two Ring.

Sauron crested the hill and found the Two Ring.

He didn't realize it at first. What Sauron saw standing atop the next hill, a quarter of a mile away, was the familiar shape of Zombie Gollum. The little creature looked unhurt, even confident. It took a _lot_ to look confident when you were basically a three foot tall skeleton wearing a loincloth.

"Zombie!" Sauron shouted. Leaving his small army behind, he darted down the hill toward the Zombie. He had found his seeker! Of course, the Neo-Nazgul did have the ability to track the Two Ring, and had done a decent job in the Zombie's absence, but they were...difficult...to control. With Zombie Gollum back at his side, Sauron would find the Two Ring no matter where it ran.

Zombie Gollum stood and waited while Sauron ran toward him. When the Dark Lord reached the bottom of the hill and began the climb up to the sickly little creature, everything went horribly wrong.

"You will not enslave me again," Zombie Gollum said defiantly from his perch atop the grassy hill.

Sauron's pace faltered. _What the devil? That doesn't sound like the Zombie!_

Then Sauron saw it. There, wrapped around Zombie Gollum's right index finger, gleaming in the morning sunlight, was the Two Ring.

He had found it.

_He had found it!_

Before Sauron could do anything, however, Zombie Gollum extended his arms toward Sauron and a...a _something..._knocked the Dark Lord off his feet and into a tiny stream between the two hills. Before Sauron had a chance to stand up, Zombie Gollum was next to him and had a grimy foot planted on his chest, pinning him in the shallow water.

"I'm going to enjoy this, _Master_." Zombie Gollum – _the Two Ring_ – drove his foot harder against Sauron's chest. The Dark Lord could _hear_ his armor bending, cacking. A touch of fear crept into his mind, but was quickly overwhelmed by feelings of anger. There was still a good sized chunk of happiness there as well, knowing he had actually found the Two Ring. Of course, he hadn't expected it to fight back. Still, despite his fear, Sauron was certain that the Two Ring would pose no real problem. After all, Sauron had an army at his back. And he was _Sauron_, Destroyer of Nations! Well, not that anyone had ever called him that, but he could destroy any bloody nation he wanted to if he pleased!

_No sniveling Zombie will defeat me!_

With a howl of rage, Sauron transformed into the Eye. The Two Ring was caught off balance and fell backward. Sauron, ever the gloater, made some snide remarks about both Zombie Gollum and the Two Ring, and then floated back to his army of Neo-Nazgul.

"Listen up," Sauron said, "here's the plan."

The Neo-Nazgul huddled closely around him, the majority of them surprisingly alert and non-insane at the moment. Sauron attributed it to their close proximity to the Two Ring.

"The plan..."

The truth was that Sauron could not think of a plan. Although he would _never_ admit to anyone that he was a poor planner (and would instantly kill anyone who made such a claim), it was the truth.

"...is...um..."

How did he handle the situation during the War of the Ring? He knew he had come up with some sort of great strategy, because he would have won easily if not for those two bloody halflings ruining everything.

"...the plan is to..."

That's it! How foolish of him to forget! He smiled back as he remembered how clever his plan had been.

"The _plan_," he said confidently, "is for me to safely remain here while all of you charge toward the enemy with no real strategy for victory. Just bombard him with everything you've got!" He considered this for a moment. "You know, I'm so bloody brilliant that sometimes I amaze even _myself_!"

----------

Sauron's Neo-Nazgul, while fairly evil, were not the deadly killers that the original nine Nazgul were. While he would deny it to the bitter end, Sauron's abilities had...waned a bit after the One Ring was broken. The Rings he created to ensnare people of Middle-Earth to do his bidding did, in fact, accomplish that goal. However, the Rings also caused insanity, poor vision, impaired motor functions, and severe constipation. These all added up to a small army that could travel maybe fifty meters in a day – and less than half would survive the journey.

But they had, under Armor's leadership, managed to journey from Minas Tirith to Isengard in an incredibly short amount of time. Armor...affected them. The fact that Armor was originally a non-living being somehow warded off all the negative effects that Sauron's impaired magic caused. Armor himself was not sure the true reason, but he attributed it to being the most powerful of the Neo-Nazgul. It wasn't even boasting – it was simple truth. Armor was a force to be reckoned with.

But Armor was not here. Yet the Neo-Nazgul seemed to be functioning at a semi-intelligent level. They had listened to Sauron's plan. They had understood it. And, almost immediately, they had realized how _idiotic_ it was.

Still, they had no choice but to obey. Through their silly looking Rings, they were bound to Sauron. They would not necessarily enjoy it, but they would do his bidding.

Some grumbling to themselves, some even trying to fight the urge to obey, the Neo-Nazgul crossed the stream and began the climb up to the Two Ring.

----------

"Go!" Sauron shouted to his army. Still in Eye form, he was floating on the other side of the stream. "Bring my precious back to me! But bring it back _alive_!"

----------

The Neo-Nazgul who was once a craftsman named Deschain strode at the head of the army – if a group of 37 could be called an army – toward the smug-looking figure staring down at them. He couldn't resist the urge of his Ring. He was being forced to confront this sniveling creature, forced against his will. He knew who he had been, but he was trapped in this out of control body.

Deschain, knowing that something bad was about to happen, threw back his blue cloak, raised his sword, and plunged it down toward Zombie Gollum.

Something bad happened.

----------

_What? That can't happen! It...it can't!_

Sauron had just witnessed The Two Ring summon a large boulder out out of thin air and hurl it toward his Nazgul. The boulder caught one of his warriors head-on just as he was about to drive his curved sword through the Zombie. The boulder continued rolling through Neo-Nazgul until it came to a stop in the small creek.

Sauron transformed back into his human form and glared death at the Zombie/Two Ring. That thing would not destroy his Nazgul! He would not allow it!

Still, there was the Plan to consider. His Plans always worked, as long as hobbits were not involved. This Plan involved Sauron watching from afar. No hobbits. It would work.

Sauron stuck to the Plan.

----------

The Neo-Nazgul who was once named Corellia and about to be married to a man named Matrim had narrowly escaped the rolling boulder. There were now 22 Neo-Nazgul left standing. Cor was beginning to worry. She knew this was a ridiculous plan, and she knew she had no real reason to be attacking this poor creature. She wanted nothing more than to have control of her own body. She wanted nothing more than to be back home, back home with Matrim.

As Cor got within a few meters of the creature, it raised its arms high and smirked at the Neo-Nazgul. Cor realized that this could not possibly be a good thing. Against her will, she gripped her sword in both hands and charged toward the Zombie.

Against her will, she held back a scream when the ground erupted.

----------

Sauron could not believe what he was seeing. All of his remaining Neo-Nazgul – _all_ of them – had just been engulfed by flames. The flames just rose from the ground! Even Sauron hadn't been able to do that! What kind of thing had he created? It was so...powerful!

_I think it may be time to abandon the Plan._

As the flames died down and his burned, writhing, shattered army became visible once more, Sauron drew his sword and gave the Two Ring a look of absolute hate.

"You destroyed my army," he said softly, but the Two Ring heard him.

"Hmm. It would appear that I have, yes." The Two Ring stepped over a few Neo-Nazgul, getting closer and closer to Sauron.

"Why did you run? I _created_ you, you bloody Ring! You should obey me!"

"Why did I run?" The Two Ring said through Zombie Gollum. "Why did I run? That's a good question, _master_. Perhaps I was tired of being controlled. Perhaps I wanted to be my _own_ master. And look! Now I am! To top things off, I'm even stronger than _you_."

Sauron rarely managed to ask the obvious questions, but this one wouldn't slip by even him. "If you knew you'd get this incredible power, then why the bloody hell didn't you just let me wear you? You could have controlled _me_, Sauron, Dark Lord of Mordor, instead of that pitiful Zombie. Your current power would be nothing compared to the two of us together!"

Zombie Gollum chuckled. "I would have done exactly that, fool, if I had had any idea that this would have been the result. I thought I would be powerless if you wore me, like before. I thought you – or anyone who wore me – would have complete control over me."

The Two Ring raised Zombie Gollum's arms. Sauron steeled himself.

"I thought wrong."

Before the Two Ring got the chance to summon the boulder or the fire or whatever else he could manage, a figure crashed into it. Sauron watched as the two rolled toward him down the hill. Turning as they passed him, Sauron had to squint into the rising sun to get a good luck at the two figures. The newcomer wore a very familiar red cloak. Sauron's spirits soared.

"Armor! You have returned!" Sauron shouted as he ran after the rolling figures. Just before they reached the stream, Armor and Zombie Gollum separated. Sauron ran over to the Zombie and grabbed him by the throat.

"You will obey me, Two Ring. You will obey me or I will destroy you!"

Zombie Gollum's face looked back at him, perplexed.

"Yes, master! Smeagol will do as you say! We just wants some juicy fish to eat! That's all we ask!"

There was no Ring on Zombie Gollum's finger. Sauron's eyes widened. They scanned the ground around them. No Ring. Then he saw Armor, who had his back to them, lean down and pick up a shiny object.

"Armor, well done! You've gotten my Ring!" Armor did not turn. "Give me the Two Ring, Armor. Armor?"

"Guess again, Sauron."

He turned and threw off the cloak. Almost immediately, fire erupted from his body. With a grin, Spanky drew his flaming sword. He held the Two Ring in his other hand. Its legs were flailing, but it could no longer speak.

"You didn't really think your foolish head Neo-Nazgul could finish me off, did you? Well, he couldn't. He learned that the hard way, and so will you." Spanky pointed the tip of his sword at Sauron. "Now, we still have a score to settle. I won't die until _you_ do."

_The Two Ring squirmed in the clutches of the balrog._

_It had been _winning_! It had been so close to blasting Sauron into obvlivion, and then the balrog had caught it off guard! Infuriating! _

_It began to panic. It would not be a slave again! It would not!_

_But wait. It managed to control the Zombie fully when it was on his finger. Sauron himself asked why the Two Ring didn't simply allow him to wear it. Maybe it should do that. If not Sauron, then the balrog. Being worn by either of them should give it its powers back. It was the only way. He would have to take the risk._

_The Two Ring squirmed in the clutches of the balrog, a glimmer of hope remaining._


	10. The End of all Things

_Chapter IX_

_The End of all Things_

"Come on, Razorwire! We have to move faster!"

Dorfo and Bordo had seen Spanky several days ago, heading back toward Isengard. The balrog had had the Neo-Nazgul's cloak draped over his shoulder. Dorfo had wanted to jump out and greet his old friend, but Bordo had restrained him. Dorfo reluctantly stayed back; he realized that Spanky most likely still wanted to kill him to avenge his father. Dorfo did demand that they follow the balrog, especially since Spanky seemed to be heading toward Sauron.

Sauron. He would take care of this problem. He would know how to mend the gap between Spanky and Dorfo. Dorfo's opinion of Sauron had changed so much since they first met in the rubble of Mount Doom. Dorfo was terrified, then, desperate to find a way out of his captivity. But the journey had seemed to change Sauron. Sauron had _accepted_ Dorfo. They were partners. Possibly even friends.

With Sauron's help, Dorfo could explain to Spanky what had happened. He would make Spanky understand. They would be friends again and continue their quest. They would.

"I moving fast as I can, Dorfo," Bordo said. The hobbit had developed a nasty limp, given to him by the Neo-Nazgul. They needed to find a horse, or something, if they were to have even the slightest chance of keeping up with Spanky.

Then Dorfo saw it: a large, gray hump protruding from the treetops less than a mile ahead of them. He recognized that shape immediately.

"Ollie!"

----------

Spanky was lucky to be alive. The Neo-Nazgul – Armor had been his name – was much stronger than Spanky. Every blow the balrog had delivered was returned with twice the force. The only thing that had saved Spanky was a well-timed swing at Armor's right hand. The fiery blade neatly separated Armor's hand from his body, and more importantly, his Ring from his body. With the Ring severed from the body, Armor toppled nearly immediately, losing the capital "A" and becoming a lifeless pile of armor once more.

Spanky had been wearing Armor's red cloak ever since. Wearing it was easier than carrying it, and Spanky's flames apparently had no effect on it. He would not abandon the cloak. Spanky would return it to Sauron as proof that his loyal subject had been utterly defeated by a simple balrog.

And then there was the matter of Dorfo. Spanky was no fool; he knew that Dorfo and the other halfling had been following him for several days. He rarely saw the other halfling, but he routinely saw Dorfo peering through underbrush, crunching through leaves, belching loudly, and so on. Dorfo was never very good at maintaining a low profile.

Spanky smiled in spite of himself. He didn't want to have to kill Dorfo. He really didn't. He didn't even like killing. But he had _promised_. He had to do it for his father.

Didn't he?

But that could wait. Right now, his business was with Sauron.

When Spanky crested the hill he had been climbing, he realized just how true that statement was. Standing on the hillside, facing each other in a not very friendly manner, were the familiar shapes of Sauron and Zombie Gollum. They were talking in indistinct voices, which Spanky strained to understand. Spanky could also see a large black area devoid of grass, and the charred remnants of...of what? People? He returned his gaze to Sauron, who aimed his sword at Zombie Gollum's throat. The Zombie held up his arms in apparent defeat.

Spanky acted. Fast as red lightning, he streaked across the hill and dove at Zombie Gollum, safely knocking him out of the way. The two tumbled down the hillside. Zombie Gollum then began to struggle. He headbutted Spanky and tried to bite his arms as the two rolled.

"What are you doing?" Spanky shouted as best he could. "I'm trying to help you!"

The two continued to wrestle until Spanky gave Zombie Gollum a hard shove and the two separated. Spanky rolled to a halt. He turned his head and saw Sauron sprinting over to where Zombie Gollum lay. He was also shouting something about Armor. As interesting as that was, Spanky's attention quickly became focused on something much closer. There, lying not two meters away, was a filthy old ring with a hint of gold on one side. Dirty as the ring was, that fleck of gold shone like the sun.

The Ring also had two little black appendages.

Spanky knew it instantly. He was staring at the Two Ring.

He grabbed it and held it tight. The Ring seemed to squirm under his grip. Spanky continued to gaze, entranced, at the Two Ring as he listened to Sauron and Zombie Gollum behind him.

"You will obey me, Two Ring. You will obey me or I will destroy you!"

Zombie Gollum's face looked back at him, perplexed. _So Zombie Gollum had been wearing the Two Ring, _Spanky thought. _That's why Sauron was so angry!_

"Yes, master!" the Zombie said. "Smeagol will do as you say! We just wants some juicy fish to eat! That's all we ask!" There was a pause. When Sauron spoke again, his tone had changed drastically. He sounded ecstatic. "Armor, well done! You've gotten my Ring! Give me the Two Ring, Armor. Armor?"

_Armor? What the devil is Sauron talking about? _Then Spanky snapped out of his trance and remembered he was wearing the late Armor's cloak. His back was to Sauron. Sauron was talking to _him_. That idiot thought a _balrog_ was Armor! Spanky was going to enjoy this.

"Guess again, Sauron." Spanky growled.

The balrog turned around as slowly and dramatically as possible, and then flung the cloak off and drew his father's sword. He grinned at the look on Sauron's face.

"You didn't really think your foolish Neo-Nazgul could finish me off, did you? He learned that the hard way, and so will you." Spanky pointed the tip of his sword at Sauron. "Now, we still have a score to settle. I won't die until _you_ do."

Spanky struck. His flaming sword flashed toward Sauron's neck, but the Dark Lord's blade was up to block the stroke in plenty of time. Spanky growled and spun, his sword aiming for Sauron's legs this time. Again the Dark Lord parried the stroke.

"Give it to me!" Sauron shouted after he dodged a nasty slash aimed for his neck. "Give it to me and you won't suffer!"

Spanky leapt back and held the Two Ring up between thumb and forefinger. Its little legs danced in the air.

"Why did you give it legs?" he asked, examining the little black protrusions. "This whole thing could have been avoided if you hadn't have given it legs."

"_It was a good plan!_" Sauron screamed. Before Spanky could react, Sauron transformed into the Eye and barreled into the balrog. The impact caused Spanky to lose his grip on the Two Ring. The little ring arced away and landed in the grass. Spanky scrambled for it. Sauron was close behind, floating centimeters above the ground. Spanky reached the Two Ring first, snatched it up, and was once again hit in the chest by Sauron's Eye. Once again the Two Ring flew backward, down the hill. Sauron and Spanky struggled for it, but neither made much forward progress. While they wrestled in the grass, the Two Ring came to a halt in front of a figure Spanky knew well. Or thought he knew well.

With Sauron's Eye pressing him down into the grass, Spanky lifted his head just enough to see ahead. His eyes widened.

_Dorfo!_

----------

Dorfo Sackville-Baggins knelt and picked up the Two Ring. He couldn't take his eyes off of the sight in front of him, however. Spanky and Sauron were struggling with each other. Fighting each other. He thought it couldn't possibly be true, that what he had been seeing as he and Bordo approached was some sort of mirage, or possibly a _different_ balrog and giant flaming Eye doing battle. Just like it did when Spanky learned Dorfo's true name, the little hobbit's world came crashing down on him again.

_Why are they fighting? We're on the same team!_

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It _wasn't_! He had imagined something more along the lines of this:

_Dorfo Sackville-Baggins knelt and picked up the Two Ring._

_Sauron, a huge grin stretching across his metallic face, ran over to where Dorfo sat, cradling the Two Ring in his hands. The Dark Lord clapped him on the shoulders._

_"We have done it, Dorfo! We found it! Dorfo, I could not have done this without you. You have been the best partner I have ever dealt with in all my years. Ever. Also, I plan on renouncing my Dark past and instead will use the Two Ring to bring peace to the world."_

_Dorfo smiled up at him, and glanced over at the rest of their fellowship. Spanky, Ollie, and Zombie Gollum all stood there, expressions of joy painted on their faces. _

_Dorfo stood and handed the Two Ring to Sauron..._

But it wasn't happening like that at all! The fellowship was disintegrating, just like it had before. He couldn't let this happen. He couldn't.

"What is going on here?" he shouted at the two struggling shapes.

After a few moments, Spanky and Sauron disentangled themselves and stood to face Dorfo. Sauron transformed back to his human form. Both had worried looks on their faces.

"Halfling!" Sauron exclaimed. "You have the Two Ring! Good! I knew I could count on you. Now, bring it to me."

Dorfo took a step forward, unable to disobey his master.

"Dorfo, don't!" Spanky shouted. "He's evil, Dorfo! Don't you realize that? Stop helping him!"

Dorfo shook his head. "He's...he's changed! He's not evil anymore. He's not."

There was a pause. Then, Sauron spoke. "He's, uh, right! That's right! Not evil! Now give me the bloody Ring, you fool halfling!"

"Dorfo," Spanky said, "listen to me. I don't care what has happened between us. Well, I _do_, but that is irrelevant now. We will settle that score later. But right now, we have to do everything in our power to keep _that_" - Spanky pointed at the Two Ring - "away from _that._" - he pointed at Sauron. "All of Middle-Earth depends on it, Dorfo! This is no game! Now, we have to get away from here!"

Sauron apparently did not like the sound of this plan.

"You will not take the Two Ring from me, balrog!" Sauron dove at Spanky. The balrog was caught off guard and went sprawling. The fight began anew.

Bordo, who had been standing beside Dorfo, drew his little sword and took a step forward.

"Razorwire, are you insane? Your leg!"

"Leg fine, Dorfo," Bordo lied. "Must help balrog. Sauron cannot win!"

With that, Bordo limped toward the two combatants and joined the battle.

Dorfo watched in horror as his three friends fought. Zombie Gollum and Ollie were the only ones who seemed to have any sense. The Zombie sat off to one side, uninterested in the current happenings, and Ollie remained at the base of the next hill, nearly a mile away.

Dorfo, desperate, looked at the little Ring he still clutched in his hand. There was a way to stop all this. It would be foolish. More than foolish – it would be complete and utter insanity. But he had to. He had finally found somewhere he belonged! Somewhere he was accepted! He would not allow his fellowship to crumble!

Dorfo slid the Two Ring onto his finger.

----------

_It's happening all over again_, Sauron thought as he watched the halfling put the Ring on. For the moment, everything was forgotten – his defeated Neo-Nazgul, the balrog, everything but the Two Ring and its new vessel.

"Dorfo, no!"

That was the balrog, shouting from somewhere beside Sauron. The Dark Lord paid him no mind; Sauron was already running toward the halfling. He made it nearly halfway before the Two Ring hurled a ball of fire at him. It struck Sauron in the chest and knocked him onto his back, unhurt but embarassed.

Sauron watched from his knees as the halfling turned his attention toward the balrog. The other, crippled halfling charged, trying to stop the Two Ring's rampage, but he was thrown off to the side by one small arm. The balrog tensed, but the Two Ring stopped several paces away.

"I will kill you all for doing this to me," it said with the halfling's voice.

Flames erupted all around the Two Ring. Sauron leapt away from one rather heavily concentrated area of fire, only to have more appear in front of him. The balrog and the cripped halfling danced around in a similar manner, powerless to stop this barrage.

_He's trying to destroy everything around him, _Sauron thought, unable to keep the proud smile from creeping onto his face. _That's my boy!_

"Dorfo!" Sauron heard the balrog's voice booming from beyond the flames. "Dorfo, you have to fight it! Don't let it control you!"

The flames died down a bit. Enough for Sauron to see the others, at least.

"I am not Dorfo." The Two Ring stood in front of Spanky and raised his arms. "Now, young balrog," his frown very, very slowly curled into a smile – Sauron thought this was awfully familiar – "you will die."

Before the Two Ring could unleash a barrage of death, Spanky grabbed the halfling's arms and held them tight.

"Listen to me! You are Dorfo Sackville-Baggins! My friend! You don't kill your friends! You may kill your friends' _fathers_, but that is another story. Besides, I do believe it really wasn't your intention to kill him. But as I said earlier, that is beside the point. I am not your enemy." The balrog pointed toward Sauron. "_He is_."

The halfling and the the Two Ring writhed in the balrog's grasp. They seemed to be fighting for control.

"Come on, Two Ring!" Sauron shouted. "You can do it!"

"Shut up!" the balrog shouted back.

The writhing stopped, and the Two Ring whispered something inaudible to the balrog. After a few moments of hesitation, the balrog released him. The Two Ring turned and began slowly walking toward Sauron.

"That's it! Come to your master! We will teach that fool balrog not to toy with us!"

The Two Ring lifted the halfing's arms in a _very_ threatening manner. It kept walking toward Sauron.

"Wait...wait a moment," Sauron stammered, "this isn't...how it's supposed to be." He held his arms in front of him, fear creeping – no, _streaming_ – into him. "Two Ring, no! This isn't how it's supposed to end! What about the prophecy? I haven't fulfilled the prophecy yet! _I haven't_..."

It was too late. Sauron was still wondering how everything had gone so horribly wrong when the Two Ring obliterated him.

----------

_The Two Ring had done it. _

_It slid off the halfling's finger, who quickly collapsed. The balrog and the other hobbit rushed over to comfort him. The Two Ring skittered a few meters away from the companions._

_It was finally free of Sauron! No more forced captivity! No more being used by others for its power! And it had this little hobbit to thank for it all. The Two Ring had completely lost control, as it did whenever it was being worn. It couldn't help but destroy anything and everything. But the hobbit had managed to control and calm it. To focus it so they could destroy Sauron together._

_It was done._

_But what would it do now? Where would it go? The Two Ring had no friends, no companions. It did not like the idea of spending all of eternity alone._

_It looked over at the halfling, Dorfo, who was just now sitting up. The Two Ring came to a decision._

_The Two Ring had done it, but it had not done it alone._


	11. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

Dorfo Sackville Baggins walked down the tree-lined path.

It was good to be back in the Shire. He found this fact surprising ever since his return, nearly three months ago. He thought his return would be met by hostility and cold shoulders. He could not have been more wrong. The Shire-folk seemed very pleased to have him back. They had wondered where he was. They had been _worried_ about him. Dorfo had never felt more welcome in his life.

He missed the adventure, though. His time with Sauron, Spanky, Zombie Gollum, and Ollie had been the best experience of his life. Sure, it ended sourly, and Sauron had basically been using him the entire time, but Dorfo had not known that at the time. He had been enjoying himself. And now, he missed his friends. He did not miss Sauron, of course, but he missed the others.

Plus, the whole adventure had given Dorfo a new outlook on life. Before, he had felt useless and unwanted. Now, he felt like he had purpose, that he could _do_ things, that he was _needed_. He had destroyed the Dark Lord of Mordor, after all! He would never again feel like he was purposeless. Never again.

Dorfo and Spanky had renewed their frienship after Sauron was defeated. Spanky had finally given Dorfo time to explain what was happening when Spanky's father died – that they were trying to gain passage through Moria so they could achieve their goal of destroying the One Ring and defeating Sauron. Finally, Spanky relented and agreed that they had had no choice. The young balrog still mourned his father, but his thirst for vengeance had ended.

Soon after this, they had separated. Dorfo realized that the best place for him was back at the Shire, and Spanky wanted to explore the world some more before returning to Moria. And so the fellowship ended. Just like that.

Bordo "Razorwire" Baggins returned to the Shire with Dorfo. His return had the whole Shire in an uproar, and he has quickly become a folk hero of sorts. Bordo shrugs off any heroic claims (but Dorfo knows how much the other hobbit enjoys hearing them) and spends most of his time relaxing in his home and telling wildly exaggerated stories to the children.

Dorfo was pulled from his thoughts by a nearby voice calling his name. He turned and saw a familiar face approaching him on the winding road.

"Hello, Sam," Dorfo said.

Samwise Gamgee smiled and returned the greeting. The chubby hobbit then fished around in his coat pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. The edges of it were singed and it was covered in burn marks.

"Got a letter for you, Dorfo," Sam said, handing it to Dorfo. "Sorry to run off so quick, but I need to round up the kids for supper. Take care, Dorfo!"

Sam turned, peered into the forest, and began calling out the names of his children. "Elanor! Goldilocks! Frodo! Pippin! Faramir! Boromir! Denethor! Treebeard! Wormtongue! Smeagol! Shelob!..."

Sam's voice trailed off as Dorfo continued down the path. Dorfo looked down at the letter. It was written in a familiar, childish hand where anything that even resembled a verb was capitalized. Spanky never was any good with letters.

_Dorfo,_

_I Hope you are well. We are all Having a good time here at Rivendell. I Wish you could be here with us, but I am Glad you are safe and happy at home._

_I am Sitting on top of Ollie right now, and he is doing much better. His leg Does Not Hurt nearly as much as it used to. He really Enjoys the wandering and adventuring. I Think he will live forever if we keep this up. _

_Dorfo, I Want you to know again that I do not Blame you for my father's death. I did not Understand back then that you had no choice in the matter. I Hope you will forgive me for...trying to Kill you all those times. I truly Am Sorry. _

_I still Think we should have Destroyed the Two Ring. It is Dangerous, and Linked to Sauron. But I Trust your judgment in this, and I Hope that the Ring is Doing Well._

_I need to Go now. Zombie Gollum Keeps Trying to Jump off of Ollie's back to Catch some sort of ferret, and I am Afraid he will Hurt himself if I do not stop him. I will have to Come Visit you again sometime soon. Maybe the other Shire-folk will not Get Scared and Beat Me With Clubs like they did last time. _

_Keep safe, my friend. _

_Spanky_

Dorfo wiped a tear from his cheek as he finished the letter. He missed the balrog. He hoped Spanky would visit soon. But there was no use dwelling on his far-away friends when he now had so many friends here at home. For once, he was enjoying life.

Dorfo felt a tug on the leash he was holding in one hand. He had almost forgotten that he was taking the Two Ring for a walk. The leash really wasn't necessary, as the Two Ring had accepted Dorfo as its master. Well, not really _master_. More like a mutual friend. The leash just seemed to..._work_, and the Two Ring did not complain.

The Two Ring scampered down the path, with Dorfo Sackville-Baggins close behind.


End file.
